Habeas Corpus
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Set post series. Buffy discovers Spike is alive, but still a ghost,caught in a battle between two higher powers. A/N: Habeas Corpus is the Latin legal term for when someone is being held against thier will. I don't own these characters Joss Whedon does


**Habeas Corpus**

Chapter 1

Winifred Burkle was a romantic, which is why she had no problem going behind Spike's back to try to get in touch with Buffy Summers. The idea had come to her after an after-hours talk with the vampire, when she was scanning his ghostly form in order to take his temperature. She was dismayed to find it had dropped another degree. To top that off, Spike was having one of his difficult days, when he'd gotten to the point where being between worlds was becoming unbearable to him. On these days, he became increasingly more maudlin, and his words usually came back to Buffy.

"Her last words to me were that she loved me," Spike had told her. " After three bleedin' years of me followin' her around like a puppy, not to mention gettin' a soul for the chit, and she chooses to tell me this when I'm about to burst into flames. And you know the kicker, Fred? I didn't bloody believe her." He put his head in his hands. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't believe her," he said again.

She'd already heard this story twice before, so she knew it must be often on his mind. He seemed so lost, and Fred's heart was breaking for him. But he was incorporeal, and she could only try to comfort him with her words.

"I could call her for you. Tell her you still love her. Tell her you believe her." His head shot up at that.

"No, Fred. I died a hero. Look at me. I'm nothin' but a shell now. Less than I was before I had a soul. No, pet. You've got to promise me you won' say anythin' to her about me. Let her think I perished in the Hellmouth. Let her believe I'm a champion."

"But you _are_, Spike. And clearly you have unfinished business with her. If she really loves you, don't you think you owe her the opportunity to convince you it's true? Don't you owe it to yourself to find out? You're fading fast, Spike, and I don't want you to slip away with so many regrets still weighing on your soul."

"No. Promise me—" And then he disappeared, as he often did in mid-conversation. For once, she wasn't sorry he had gone. It had saved her from making a promise she had no intention of keeping.

The next afternoon, Fred waited until Harmony had left her desk before she snuck over to her computer, and pulled up Angel's address book. Given Harmony's past relationship with Spike, and what she had gleaned was bad blood between her and Buffy, Fred doubted Harmony would be very forthcoming in helping Spike and Buffy reunite. Hence, the sneakiness. Angel had said Buffy was in Europe, and Fred saw that she was, more specifically, in Italy. She grabbed a notepad and jotted down Buffy's telephone number, then clicked out of the address book and walked casually back toward her office in the science lab, Harmony none the wiser.

Looking around guiltily, fearing Spike might be lurking about, she picked up her office phone and dialed the number. A sleepy voice answered on the third ring. _Oops,_ thought Fred. _It must be early in the morning in Italy._

"—lo? I mean, pronto?"

"Buffy? Buffy Summers?"

"Yeah? That would be me."

"I'm sorry to wake you. I forgot about the time difference. I'm Fred Burkle. I work with Angel at Wolfram and Hart. I'm calling—"

"Is Angel okay? Is something wrong?" She suddenly sounded completely awake.

"Uh, no. Angel's fine. He doesn't know I'm calling. He wouldn't want me to call you, I suspect. Anyway, I'm calling about someone else. A mutual friend." She took a deep breath. "I'm calling about Spike." This announcement was met with complete silence. "Buffy? Are you still there?  
"Yes," she replied softly, and Fred could almost hear the tears in her voice. Buffy cleared her throat. "Yes," her voice was stronger now. "I told Angel that Spike had—had died in the Hellmouth. I'm sorry if you didn't know…"

"I knew, Buffy. It's just that, well—there's no easy way to say this. Spike is alive. Well, sorta. He's here now, at Wolfram and Hart."  
"What? You must be mistaken. That can't be. I—I watched him die."  
"I know. He told me. But about two weeks ago, he suddenly just _appeared_. His last memory was of dying in Sunnydale. Of you, holding his hand, saying you loved him, and—"

_No one could have known that but him._ "How did this happen? I mean, he was burning up…" Fred could feel the waves of incredulity and pain bombarding her through the phone.

"I know it seems impossible, but I promise, it's true. He's here. The Powers that Be must have plans for him. Or it could be that the senior partners at this firm pulled some strings. I don't know, Buffy, but you have to come. I don't know how much longer Spike will be with us."

"Is he hurt? Is he dying? You said he appeared two weeks ago. Why hasn't anyone called me? Why didn't Angel—"

"I couldn't say, Buffy." What she couldn't really do was tell the obviously distraught woman that Spike had asked her not to call, and that she suspected Angel's jealousy of Buffy's relationship with Spike had prevented him from contacting her. "It's complicated, I think," Fred finally said. "But I will tell you that Spike hasn't been physically able to call you. That's why I'm doing it. I'm trying to help him, and I think he needs all the friends he can get right now. But I really think he needs you most of all, Buffy." _Whether he thinks so or not, _Fred finished to herself.

"I'll be on the first plane I can get," Buffy was saying. "Tell him—tell Spike I'll be there as soon as I can. Tell him to hold on for me. Tell him—tell him I love him."

"There's something you should know, Buffy. I mean, I don't want you to be too shocked—"

"It can wait until I get there. And Fred, is it? Fred, thank you. Thank you so much. You can't know how happy I am to hear this." She chuckled nervously. "I can't believe it! I've dreamed of this exact thing. That he's not really gone. That I'll open my door, and there he'll be, with his stupid bleached hair and that damn leather duster. And that smart ass mouth of his…"she trailed off nostalgically. Fred smiled.

"That sounds like Spike, alright. I'm glad you're coming, Buffy. I know he will be too."

"Thanks again, Fred. You sound like you're a good friend to him. I look forward to meeting you in person. I better go so I can call the airline. "

"Okay, Buffy. I'll see you when you get here." They said their good-byes and hung up. _I just hope Spike is still my friend when he finds out what I've done._

Across the world, Buffy sat in shock, staring at her phone. _Spike was alive_. She'd died enough times herself to know that it was more than possible to return from the dead in the crazy universe they lived in, apart from the rest of humanity's laws. But that didn't stop Buffy from feeling like she'd stepped through the Looking Glass. It had been forty-three days since Spike had died in Sunnydale, along with Anya and many slayer girls in their battle with The First. He had sacrificed his life for her, for the world, and she had let him, because, in the end, there was nothing she could have done once the medallion he wore had been activated, and fire began to shoot out from his burning body. Plus, he had seemed resigned, no, _proud _to go out that way. He'd saved the world, but she couldn't save him.

It was ironic really, because she understood now what Spike had gone through when she herself had been ripped from heaven. Like him, she had counted the days since she'd lost him. Had replayed everything she'd done and might have done over and over in her mind. Had lived in misery, even surrounded by the beauty that was Italy. Had muddled through the last weeks, trying to be strong for Dawn, and for the others who still looked to her as their leader, even though she was dying inside. Yes, it was equal parts ironic and tragic that as she looked at Spike in the Hellmouth, holding his fiery hand, that it had finally clicked in her mind that she loved him. Too late. So late, in fact, that Spike didn't believe her when she told him. He'd died not truly knowing how much he was loved. How much he had earned her respect in those last days when he'd stood by her when even her best friends and sister had not.

So now, fate had brought him back to her, but Fred had said he might not be around much longer. Well, what the hell did that mean? She was so overcome with the very idea that he was alive, some of the details hadn't registered while Fred was talking. And had she said "sorta alive?" And that there was something else "shocking?" Buffy was tempted to call her back, but she was so anxious to see him for herself that she pushed the questions to the back of her mind and picked up the phone again to make her plane reservations. _I'm coming, Spike. Please, don't leave me again._

And so it was that fifteen hours later, Buffy entered the offices of Wolfram and Hart in Los Angeles. She'd heard of the place of course—who with any contact with the demon world hadn't? She still hadn't come to terms with the fact that Angel was now the CEO. He'd told her they were just using their resources to continue the fight against evil, but something told her it wasn't that simple. But she wasn't here to get involved with Angel's world, just take Spike out of it.

She gave her name to Security at the main entrance, and even though she hadn't told Angel she was coming, she was immediately treated as a VIP and ushered upstairs to Angel's offices. In the reception area, she was shocked to see Harmony sitting at the desk. She couldn't help smirking at the ditzy vampire as she busied herself filing her nails while playing solitaire on the computer. Some vampire she was, not sensing the presence of a slayer when she's standing right in front of her. _Probably more due to her self-involvement than anything else._ Buffy cleared her throat.

"May I help—" She looked up and visually blanched. "Slayer," she said melodramatically, "if you've come to seek vengeance against me, Angel will protect me. I'm like his right-hand man, only I'm obviously a woman."

"Yeah, I can see that. So tell me Harmony, gang leader didn't work out, so you decided to become a receptionist?"

"Angel trusts me, Buffy. Me. And you're just jealous. He's not barking up your bush anymore, and _I _get to see him every day." Harmony's implication that there was anything romantic between her and Angel was laughable at best. And Buffy frankly didn't have time for this.

"I'm here to see Angel."

"Well, he's in a meeting. You'll just have to wait." She nodded toward a nearby waiting area.

"I think not," said Buffy, setting down her suitcase and walking toward the big double-doors. She could see through the glass windows of Angel's office that others were obviously in the room, but at that moment, she just didn't give a damn.

"Buffy! Stop!" She could hear Harmony growling in frustration, moving to buzz Angel.

Buffy flung open the doors, making her grand, angry entrance. Angel was just talking to Harmony, and was rising to his feet in shock. Buffy quickly noted the other occupants—not recognizing anyone but Wesley. A young woman in a pretty floral sundress was smiling widely. She'd bet anything that was Fred. But she was all with the rage now as she caught sight of Angel's surprised and guilty expression. Oh, he knew why she was there, alright.

"Where the hell is he?" She demanded without preamble.

"Buffy—" He started to come around his desk. Angel felt his stomach clench as it always did when he saw Buffy. A hundred images of their time together flashed in his mind, only reconfirming that he would love her forever. But his guilt in not calling her the minute Spike arrived would be yet another mark against him. It was true—if he couldn't have her, he didn't think anyone else deserved to. Least of all, Spike.

For the first time since seeing Angel as a teenager, Buffy felt nothing. Well, nothing but anger. She knew exactly the reason he withheld the news about Spike from her, and he wasn't going to get away with controlling her life this time.

"You arrogant asshole! You knew damn well you should have called me the minute you found out Spike was back. You know how I felt about him. You had no right to keep this from me!" She advanced on her former lover, almost wishing she had a wooden stake with her. She would settle for beating the hell out of him.

"Buffy, please, let me explain."

"Tell me where he is right now or I swear to God—"

"Hello, Buffy." The smooth British baritone reverberated in her ears, bringing her up short. She knew he was standing right behind her, even though she hadn't sensed any other vampire but Angel when she'd stormed into the room, and still couldn't. But there was no doubt it was him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and slowly turned around, her heart picking up its already frantic pace. She opened her eyes, and there he was, all leather, platinum, and chiseled cheekbones. And those eyes, sapphire and intense, gazing at her now in wide-eyed wonder.

"Spike," she whispered, and moved to step into his arms.

"Wait, luv—" Spike began. But, too late, she walked right through him. Instead of Spike's hard, muscular arms holding her, she met with…air. She whipped around, not finding this cosmic joke very funny. Spike still stood where she had left him, his expression somehow embarrassed.

"What the hell is going on here?" She asked the room at large, reaching out to pass her hand through the incorporeal Spike.

"Hey!" Spike protested, annoyed at the strange violation. Fred took this moment to introduce herself.

"Buffy, I'm Fred. Uh, I tried to tell you about this on the phone, but you seemed so anxious to get here that I—"

"Fred!" came the chorus that included Spike, Angel, Wesley, Gunn and Lorne. Fred blushed, knowing at least two of the guys would be very pissed with her for making that call. She looked around at them all. "Look, Buffy should have been told. None of you guys had the guts enough to do it, so it fell to me." She looked sheepishly at Spike. "I'm sorry, Spike. I just couldn't bear to see you suffering anymore."

"'S okay, pet," said a resigned Spike. He chuckled. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised." In the brief time he'd known her, Fred was nothing if not ballsy--one of the reasons he liked her so much. He and Buffy continued to stare at each other longingly, neither of them speaking to each other, but desperately reaching for the words to begin. Fred, sensing their need to be alone, started ushering the others out .

"But this is _my _office," Angel all but whined.

"Shhh…let's give them some time…" Like the devoted minions they were, they followed Fred without another word. Buffy caught Fred's eye on her way out and smiled genuinely at her. Then, she turned back to Spike. "Well…how does it feel to be part of the Resurrection Club?"

"Would be great if it wasn't for ma little problem with stayin' power."

Buffy laughed softly. "And I know that has never been a worry for you before." She blushed a little at her own words.

"You know it, baby," he leered, falling easily into his old suggestive habits. She couldn't believe how much she'd actually missed that.

"My God, Spike. I can't believe you're here. How? Why?"

"That's what Fred has been tryin' to figure out. All I know is one minute I was savin' the world, next minute I'm in Captain Forehead's office, not quite m'self, as you can see. We think it has somethin' to do with the amulet I wore, that I'm tied to it and to Wolfram and Hart somehow. I'm not exactly a ghost, not exactly alive. Fred says I'm a special case. I'm just bloody tired a bein' in this soddin' purgatory."

"What you did, Spike, for me, for everyone—you sacrificed yourself. You deserve to come back from that. You deserve another chance." _Was she talking about with her too? _He hadn't wanted her to see him like this—still didn't—but now that she was here, he didn't know how he could say good-bye to her again.

"Not sure I deserve anythin', luv. After all I did in my last life, 'm not expectin' anythin' at all." She knew she couldn't convince him he was wrong, so she gave up. For now.

"So you've just been hanging around here, haunting Angel for the last couple of weeks?"

"Yeah," he grinned mischievously. "Been gettin' somethin' outta this at least. Drivin' the git crazy. Almost makes it worth it."

She smiled back, then asked the question he still wasn't prepared to answer. "Why didn't you want me to know, Spike?" He could see her eyes welling with unshed tears, and there was nothing he could say that would justify his reasoning to her. He guessed it all went back to pride, and the knowledge that he would never be worthy of her, especially not in this current manifestation. He decided there was nothing for it but to be honest with her.

"If I wasn't good enough for you before, how could I possibly be as--_this_? A ghost. An' I can't leave LA; I tried, believe me. I'm bound to this place. I can't be a part of anyone's life. Hell, I'm not even part of _my own_ anymore."

She couldn't stop her tears from falling, stood there before him, feeling almost as helpless as she'd been when her mother had died. She realized her past treatment of him had been the cause of all his insecurities. She had a lot to make up for. She shook her head at him.

"There's got to be something we can do." She reached out again, then dropped her hand in frustration. "I want so much to touch you," she whispered. Spike looked deeply into her tear-drenched green eyes. In recent days, he'd learned that if he focused hard enough, he could manipulate the physical world. He reached out, concentrating all his thoughts on his fingertips.

"Hold still, luv." And then she felt him touch her arm. It was light as butterfly wings, but it was him. She trembled at it, reaching up to touch his hand with her own. And then he was gone. She blinked. "Spike?" She whirled around, searching for him. "Spike?" she said, her voice rising in panic.

Fred and Angel, having waited outside the doors, heard her calling for Spike, knowing right away what must have happened. They rushed back into the office to her side.

"What happened? Where'd he go?" Buffy asked frantically.

"It's okay, Buffy," said Fred, trying to calm her with her soft voice. "He does that. He disappears and has no control over it. He'll be back."

"How long?" she asked, regaining her composure.

"It varies," answered Angel. "It has been happening more often and for longer periods as time has gone on."

"That's what I was trying to tell you," added Fred. "We don't know how much longer we'll have him. His body temperature is dropping. He disappears more, like Angel says."

Up until that moment, Angel had been looking forward to the time when Spike faded away forever. Now he knew that if he were ever going to get back in Buffy's good graces again, he'd have to be more positive about Spike, as much as it pained him. "Fred and Wesley have been working on a solution," he offered.

"He says he can't leave here. I'd like to stay around as long as I can. As long as _he_ can."

Angel felt a jab in the vicinity of his dead heart. Hearing the love and desperation in her voice where Spike was concerned was too surreal, too painful. He sighed inwardly, then looked at the petite blonde Slayer.

"There's an empty apartment on the sixteenth floor. It's fully furnished and stocked for visitors.

You're welcome to stay there as long as you like. Harmony will give you the key card."

Buffy smiled at him.

"Harmony, huh? You can't believe how surprised I was to see her at your reception desk. I know it's hard to get good help these days, but..."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, she's trying to be a better vampire. I thought maybe I could set a good example for her. Help keep her from killing anyone..." He caught her skeptical expression.

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking. But she actually hasn't been that bad. I don't trust her with anything important, but hey, keep your enemies closer and all that."

The trio walked out to said vampire. She sat glaring at the Slayer, old resentments and jealousies clearly written on her kewpie doll face.

"Get Buffy the key to 1611," Angel ordered. She pulled open a drawer, huffing and grumbling under her breath, but dutifully handed her the key card.

"Thanks," Buffy said, having to pull hard to get it from Harmony's hand. Buffy just smiled politely and walked over to her suitcase. Angel was there immediately to pick it up for her, always the gentleman.

Fred watched the proceedings with interest, noting her boss's tension and longing with every surreptitious glance at Buffy. _He still loves her_, she realized. _This is not going to be as easy as I had hoped._

"I'll let you get settled in," said Fred. "I'm extension 101 if you need me for anything."

"Thank you so much, Fred." Impulsively, Buffy hugged the gangly brunette, feeling like she'd met a long-lost sister.

"I just felt like it was the right thing to do." Mid-hug, Fred glanced up at Angel, knowing there'd be a reckoning to him for her actions soon. "I _still_ think it was right," she maintained for his benefit. Her work done here, Fred headed back to the lab.

"Can I escort you to your apartment?" Angel offered.

"Sure," Buffy replied, following him back to the elevators. They stood awkwardly inside, watching the floor numbers pass.

"I'm sorry I was going to kick your ass," Buffy said conversationally. Angel pressed a button to pause the elevator. His lips twitched as he looked at her.

"Well, I know from experience you could have. I'm sorry I didn't call you. If Spike had asked me to..."

"It's okay. Letting me stay here with him will go a long way to make up for it.

I'd appreciate it if in the future you'd share stuff relevant to me though. Deal?"

He restarted the elevator. "Deal," he sighed, not meeting her eyes. They got off on the sixteenth floor, walking companionably down the hall. At her door, he set down her suitcase, their last meeting in Sunnydale flashing in his mind. They'd shared a passionate kiss and a strange conversation about cookie dough. He cleared his throat nervously.

"So, uh. Are you still half-baked?"

She looked up at his towering height blankly a minute, then, suddenly getting his reference, let out a bark of laughter. She had to remind herself she was still pissed off at him.

"Some people might say so." But she knew what he meant. "It depends on Spike."

She noted his crestfallen face, and, despite her anger, hated to hurt him.

"You should know that those last few days in Sunnydale, my feelings sort of...crystallized where Spike was concerned. He was there for me--stood by me--when others I loved didn't."

"_I _would have been there for you. But you told me to go home." Because old habits die hard, she reached out her hand to take his.

"I know, Angel. I know you would come if I ever needed you. I'll always love you for that. We'll always be…connected. But Spike—"

Angel definitely didn't want to hear this. "I get it, Buffy. I do. And I'll try to help you any way I can." He squeezed her hand, reluctant to release it. Reaching down, he brushed her bangs away from her tired eyes.

"Get some rest. You look like hell." He grinned slightly to take the sting from his words.

"At least I've never spent any time there," she countered, squeezing back, just a little harder. He smirked.

"Good night, Buffy." She watched his casual saunter back to the elevator, then swiped her key card and opened the door to her new digs.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy was impressed with the luxurious apartment. It was decorated in shades of brown, from tan to dark chocolate. Everything was modern and comfortable, not to mention the spectacular view, and she knew she had nothing to complain about, except that she desperately wanted to see Spike again. She wished she knew when he might make another appearance. There was still so much she wanted to say to him.

She checked the fridge and it was indeed stocked with plenty of produce, cheese, cold cuts, and even a bottle of wine. The freezer contained frozen entrees, and the bread box housed fresh bakery breads. She was definitely hungry, but a bath and sleep seemed slightly higher on the list.

She went into the marble tiled bathroom, noting with pleasure the huge garden tub and the shower big enough for two. She began filling the tub, tugging off her clothes tiredly, anticipating how good it would feel to sink into hot water up to her neck. On second thought, she went back to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, returning to the bathroom in time to step inside the tub. When the water reached the appropriate depth, she turned on the jets of the whirlpool, and sipped her wine, all but groaning as her body relaxed into it. She must have fallen asleep, for, next thing she knew, a certain sexy voice had come out of her dreams and was speaking right into her ear.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike had no idea how long he had been gone, but when he reappeared in Angel's office, no one was there,

and the room was dark. Outside the windows, the lights of LA told him it was fairly late at night.

"Bollocks!" he said, wondering where Buffy might be now. Maybe his ghostiness had scared her away.

But one perk of his current state was that if he wanted to go somewhere, or find someone in the building, all he

had to do was think about it, and there he was. While he wasn't sure Buffy was still at Wolfram and Hart, he thought

it was worth a try. He certainly couldn't stop himself from thinking of her anyway.

Next thing he knew, Spike was in an apartment that he'd never seen before. It looked a lot like Angel's, but the windows faced the opposite direction, and it looked less lived in. No poncey gothic novels strewn about. Walking through the living area, he heard running water. Curious, he went toward the sound. He paused at the threshold of the bathroom, nearly bowled over at the sight that greeted him. The Slayer was in her bath.

Up until that moment, he wondered if he would still have the same, uh, _urges _he'd had in the flesh. Seeing Buffy naked after so long was enough to let him know that hey, this spirit was definitely willing. _God, she's still so beautiful. _Her long blonde hair was piled on top of her head, but some hung down in damp wisps at the nape of her pretty neck. Her eyes were closed and her face dewy with the steam rising from the bath. He was slightly disappointed that the bubbles from the jets hid her other…_interesting_ bits.

He was spying, he knew, but he couldn't help himself, so hungry was he for the sight of her. He felt like Romeo beneath Juliet's balcony, wondering whether he should speak to her or continue to peep. _William the Bloody poet is still inside me, the old wanker. _But Spike was his predominate personality now, and he could no more resist the naked goddess in the tub than Romeo would have. He leaned down close to her. She seemed to be sleeping, or in deep relaxation mode, for she stirred not a bit, not seeming to sense his presence at all.

"You're just as gorgeous as I remembered, pet," whispered Spike the ghost.

Chapter 2

Buffy wasn't used to not being able to sense others, especially vampires. So when Spike reappeared right next to her, she nearly jumped out of her skin—or at least, out of the tub. Water sloshed as she moved to sit up, then, remembering her nude state, she sank back down quickly in a vain attempt at covering herself. "Spike! Dammit, don't sneak up on me like that!"

He chuckled softly. "Now this ability would have come in handy for me 'bout a year ago. Slayer senses don't quite work with ghosties, eh?"

Her heart settling to a more normal rhythm, she regarded Spike who seemed not at all like a ghost, except when she reached out to try to touch him. Her hand moved through him somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch, and he jumped as if burned. But, of course, he'd really felt nothing.

"I'll stop sneakin' up on you if you stop treatin' me like a bloody science experiment."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be insensitive. I just want to be able to feel you. I've missed you so much."

His eyes softened in that way they had whenever she had ever thrown him a crumb of affection. She kicked herself remembering that hadn't happened very often in their torrid past. Unbidden, the memory of another time when she and Spike had been in a bathroom came crashing back. She looked away, not wanting him to remember too. But he'd always had the uncanny ability to know her a little better than she knew herself. He sighed, running his hand through his white hair in defeat.

"I'll leave you to your bath, luv. We never did get on well in bathrooms."

"Wait, Spike. I thought we'd gotten beyond that."

She watched him pause in the doorway, his back to her, shoulders slumped. Everything seemed suddenly overwhelming to both of them. Their past. Their present. Their uncertain future. He must have stood there in silence for at least a minute, before slowly turning back to look at her. She saw guilt there, and a little fear. And while no woman deserves to be raped, Buffy had long ago come to understand her share of the responsibility for why he'd felt compelled to attempt it.

"I'll never get passed it for as long as I…exist, Buffy. Before I got ma soul back, I had murdered hundreds of people, terrorized cities. What I did to you back in Sunnydale was by far the worst thing I've ever done. Now, I can stop talkin' about it, but you can't make me forget it. All I can do is try to be a better ma--." He looked down at himself in disgust. "A better _ghost_, I suppose."

"I'll tell you what," Buffy said, trying to lighten the mood, "let's start over from where I said 'I've missed you so much.' I'll get out of this tub and meet you in the living room. Do you think you can hang around that long?"

"I can't watch Venus emerge from her half shell?"

"Later. When you can do something about it." She winked enticingly at him.

Spike was grateful for the change of subject and tone. He nodded once, then, smiling mischievously, showed off for her by walking through the wall and disappearing into the next room.

Minutes later, Buffy emerged wearing the fluffy white towel she'd found hung on the back of the bathroom door. She saw that Spike was standing at the window, staring out into the city night. She drank in the sight of him, feeling her heart constricting at how beautiful he was. Still feeling the effects of jet lag, and now completely relaxed from the wine and hot water, she dropped unceremoniously onto the overstuffed couch.

"Neat trick, walking through walls," she said. "You'd be a big hit at Halloween parties and séances."

"One of the many perks," Spike said dryly. He still stayed hesitantly at the window. He wished he had a cigarette to occupy his hands.

"Come sit with me," Buffy whispered. "I don't know how long I'll have you here."

He held her gaze and walked to the couch, sitting down near her. "I've missed you too, by the way. So much so that Hell was seemin' a step up."

She smiled. "I know how you feel. It's been Hell for me too. I've been so self-absorbed since you—since Sunnydale , that all I've done this past month is go through the motions."

"You're in Italy, yeah?"

"Yeah. Giles has gotten the Watcher's Council going again, now in Italy, and this time they put me up in a beautiful villa in Rome. Except for wandering aimlessly through museums, I haven't been able to enjoy any of it."

"And the bit?" He asked, referring, of course, to Dawn. "Is she—did she make it out okay?"

"Yes, she did." She smiled at his obvious relief. "She's going to a private school, learning Italian and shadowing Giles at the Council. She wants to become a Watcher."

"She'll make a good one, I think. Lots of slayers out there now, I imagine."

"Yeah. More keep showing up every day. Faith and Wood have started a training facility in Cleveland, near another Hellmouth. Willow is in South America, looking into native mysticism. Oz has joined her there. I think they might make a go of things again. Willow has realized that she can easily swing both ways."

Spike laughed at that. "Red and Wolfboy . I'm glad to hear it. And the whelp?"

Here, Buffy became suddenly quiet. "What is it?" Spike asked, fearing the worst.

"Anya died in the Hellmouth, Spike. Xander hasn't taken it too well. He's been world-traveler guy. He'll call now and then to check in, but I think he really just needs to find a new purpose in life. I worry about him."

"Poor Anya. She was good people." He didn't want to dwell on the subject of Anya much, given _that_ particular mistake of that one night when the loneliness had become too much for both of them. "And I wouldn't worry 'bout Harris, pet. As devoted as the git is to you, he'll be back 'fore you know it, nippin' at your heels and bein' his general annoyin' self."

"I hope so. I miss him." She blinked back sudden tears. She'd cried so much this past month that sometimes it just snuck up on her. "I wish Anya could somehow come back and Xander would get a second chance like I have…with you."

"Is that what you really want? A second chance with me? Face facts, luv, what can I give you now, like this?"

"We're gonna find a way around this Spike, I promise. Fred seems determined to find some answers, and I'm staying here to help any way I can. I'm not letting you go again. And yeah, I owe you a second chance. I screwed things up so royally with you I guess I'm not surprised you didn't call me when you came back. I—"  
"None of that," he protested, reaching for her, then cursing when he fell right through her. He sat up on the other side of the couch, his frustration glaringly obvious. "Bloody hell, I wish I had a cigarette!" Before she could try to comfort him, he was gone.

"Spike?" She called, not really hopeful that he would reappear. When he didn't, Buffy felt the tears come, and, finally at her physical and emotional breaking point, dragged herself to bed.

It was scaring Spike how long he was sometimes gone now. Worse though, was the new kind of torture he experienced knowing Buffy was here waiting for him, and there was nothing he could do to hasten his return. When he reappeared he was at least glad he was back in Buffy's apartment, but the pink light tinting the sky outside the windows told him dawn was approaching.

He looked for Buffy in her bedroom, his throat tightening as he found his sleeping Slayer. Beneath champagne colored sheets, she lay on her stomach, her arms akimbo, her breathing deep, almost approaching snoring stage. He smiled, then groaned when he saw the white robe abandoned on the floor. She was naked under those soft-looking sheets. Part of her well-defined back was exposed, and he stood near the bed, admiring each smooth hollow and curve, remembering vividly how it felt to wrap his arms around her, to feel every soft flexing muscle as she clung to him in passion. She was so very strong, his Slayer.

She had been obviously exhausted last night, and he never liked to see her in that condition. It was a rare thing, but it pained him to know he was somehow the cause of it. Making no sound, he gave in to the temptation of climbing onto the bed beside her. He couldn't help remembering those last few nights with her in Sunnydale. The best in his life, he'd told her then. They had held each other, and he hadn't even been tempted to make love to her. Okay, that wasn't exactly true, but he was satisfied in a different way, that she would let him stay with her through the night, trusting him, sleeping beside him like she'd never allowed when they'd been sexually involved the year before.

He slid his hand along her body, feeling nothing physical, and having no effect on his sleeping beauty, but unable to resist at least trying to touch her. He leaned over her, focusing his essence into his lips. He opened his mouth slightly and kissed the sleep-warmed nape of her neck. Concentrating harder, he increased the pressure, tasting her briefly with his tongue, reveling in the feel of her flesh beneath him. He hadn't really wanted to awaken her, but changed his mind when she rolled onto her back, her green eyes opening groggily to rest on her ghostly bedmate.

"Spike," she breathed happily. "I thought I'd dreamed you."

"Thas' me, luv," he said wistfully, "your dream come true." Unthinkingly, she reached out to him, and he gasped audibly when her sheet slipped, revealing her small, perfect breasts to his hungry gaze. She looked down at herself, blushing prettily, pulling up the sheet to her neck this time.

"Oops," she said. "Sorry I flashed you."

"I'm not." Their eyes locked and held, Spike's dark blue with emotion. Reluctantly, he broke the contact, looking toward the windows. "Go back to sleep, pet. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Only if you stay with me."

"I'll try," he said, resettling himself. He prayed he wouldn't disappear, and, as luck would have it, he didn't.

Chapter 3

She slept another hour, and he continued to watch her, feeling a mixture of joy and anguish at their predicament. She awoke and stretched languorously, this time remembering to keep herself modestly covered. Her sleepy smile was very rewarding. He laughed when he heard her stomach growl.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah," she said in embarrassment. "I kinda forgot to eat last night." She reached down for her discarded robe, pulling it on. He enjoyed the flash of shapely thigh as she got out of bed.

"I'll be right back." She headed for the bathroom, then joined him in the kitchen for breakfast. She remembered how much he liked to eat actual food, not just blood like most vampires she knew about. Spike had a great many appetites, she mused. She pulled out croissant, fruit and juice and sat across from him at the kitchen table.

"Sorry you can't eat. It must be hard for you to be able to see and not touch."

Of course, he was thinking more about other things than food. "You don't know the half of it", he said under his breath. "At least I don't feel hungry…for food, that is." He eyed her messy hair and the tan "v" where her robe wrapped around her, giving her the old familiar "look" that blatantly said "sex."

"Hey, buddy, eyes up here," she pointed two fingers a little farther north.

"Can't the vamp look at the kitten?"

"Unfortunately, that's all he _can_ do." This was as good an invitation as she'd ever given him, and his face all but beamed.

"Well if that isn't encouragement to get ma body back, I don't know what is."

_Why was it suddenly so easy to flirt with him?_ They'd never had that kind of relationship before. Sure, they'd traded barbs on more than one occasion, and he was all with the sexual innuendos, but there was always a restraint there, on both their parts. She, because she was in deep denial, and he, because he was trying not to get hurt. Without the pressures of the world ending, personal stubbornness or guilt, they were finally free to just _be. _

He watched her pull off bite sized pieces of the pastry and pop them delicately into her mouth. His eyes followed her movements in a way that made her warm all over.

"You're not going to start singing 'Unchained Melody' are ya?" She asked him in mock horror, breaking the mood only slightly.

"Only if you don't take up pottery, luv."

She laughed, and he realized he hadn't heard her all-out genuinely laugh in, well, _years. _At least, not for him. He watched in awe as her eyes crinkled, and her lips drew back, showing those pearly whites of hers. He wanted so badly to kiss her that it was like a physical ache.

They sat in companionable silence as she finished her breakfast, their eyes fastened on each other in new fascination. She picked up a large strawberry and took what to him was a highly sensual bite.

"Here, let me try." She watched as he seemed to hone in on her next strawberry, then, slowly grasped it and brought it to her lips. She bit down, savoring the sweetness along with the passion in his eyes.

"How'd you do that?" She asked after swallowing the bite.

"'M not sure. Just takes some concentration. I can't do big things, though, or hold anything for very long. I—bloody hell!"

She watched in dismay as he faded away again.

"Damn!" she muttered. With a new resolve, she guzzled her orange juice and threw on her clothes. It was time for a visit with a certain scientist.

The plaque on the elevator wall indicated the Science Lab was on the tenth floor, so Buffy punched the number, humming along with the musak that filtered in from invisible speakers. The door slid open when the bell went off on ten, and Buffy stepped out of the elevator. Into a bright, white room. She turned back to the elevator door, but it had closed, and there were no buttons to press to recall it. _Where the hell am I? _

She walked a little farther into a room that seemed to go on forever in all directions, with no other doors anywhere, no windows, and nothing but white, white, white.

"Hello?" she called. No answer.

She reached into her pocket for her cell phone, but it registered no reception. She tried anyway, but got nothing. When another try at the elevator yielded no luck, she began to walk. She felt oddly snow-blind after about five minutes of aimless wandering. She must have gone in a complete circle, for there was the elevator again, or another one exactly like it.

"Okay," she said aloud to whomever it was who must have put her on _Punked, _"I'm not laughing here. Can somebody please help me?"

"Elizabeth Summers," came a disembodied voice like she imagined God's would be. "We are glad you finally arrived."

"Huh? Where are you? Arrived for what?"

"You have come for the body of William Pratt." This was a statement, not a question.

"Uhhhh….yeahhh…" she tentatively replied, unused to hearing Spike's real name. She looked around for speakers or the owner of the voice, but could see nothing, and it was difficult to determine which direction the sound was coming from. "I want his body—I mean, _Spike _wants his body back. Do you know a way to make that happen? Whoever you are?"

"Look to your right, Elizabeth Summers, and all will be made known to you."

She turned as directed to see what appeared to be Spike walking toward her, although she couldn't tell from whence he'd come. Another thing about him—he was naked except for what could only be described as a loincloth, white to match his hair and the room around them. As he made his way closer, she admired the perfection of his physique, sculpted and honed in all the right places. Seeing him without his clothes never failed to awe her, or excite her. Then her gaze moved up to his eyes, which were absolutely blank. No emotion or humor animated them. She couldn't even tell their color. If the eyes were supposed to be windows to the soul, well, no one seemed to be home right now.

"Spike?" she said when he finally stood before her. He didn't acknowledge her in any way, just stared straight ahead. But, unlike with Ghost Spike, her slayer senses were definitely shouting _vampire! _She reached out to touch him and found, instead of her hand passing through him, the firm muscles of a very corporeal Spike.

She looked up and around. "What have you done to him?"

"We have done nothing. We only seek to right the wrong inflicted upon him."

"What wrong?"

"William Pratt was not the Intended One. Angelus was meant to wear the amulet to defeat The First."

"Well, sorry about that, but it didn't exactly come with an instruction manual."

"Angelus knew, but he passed the responsibility off to you. _You _chose to give it to the wrong champion."

"Okay, but there's nothing I can do about that now. Put Spike back together for me, and we'll just be on our—"

"No!" _Scary voice sounded a little pissed off._ "It was your decision that caused this cosmic error. If you want to save the champion, you must fight for him. "

"Well, okay then. That's what I'm good at. Just point me in the right direction…"

"No!" She jumped, startled at the booming volume. "It is right before you."

"Where?" All she saw before her was…Spike. "You want me to fight Spike's _body_?"

"You are correct, Elizabeth Summers. Proceed."

This was just _crazy,_ and Buffy was a girl who had lived the word for the last eight years.

"Wait—if I fight Spike's uh—body, and end up killing it, there won't be anything left for his spirit to go back into."

"You cannot kill this body. You will have no weapons."

"Then how the hell will I know when I've won?"

"You won't," said the voice.

"Oh," Buffy replied. "Say what?"

Chapter 4

There were no answers to her questions.

"And what happens if I lose? He can kill _me_, I assume." She knew how strong Spike was, and even though they had always seemed evenly matched, he had already killed two other slayers. No answer again. "Hello?"

But Buffy didn't have time to be confused, as Spike's body suddenly tackled her, catching her so off guard that they slid about ten feet across the smooth white floor. Reflexes awakening, she managed to bring up her knees and push him off of her. Jumping to her feet, she regarded her opponent, trying to tell herself that this wasn't Spike. He wasn't really trying to kill her.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that they now had an audience. A rectangular glass box had appeared about thirty feet away. Inside, she could see a fully dressed, leather-clad Spike frantically trying to find a way out of his prison. If this was Spike's spirit, as she had guessed, whoever was pulling their strings had somehow found a way to contain him. He caught her eye and seemed to be yelling something at her, but she couldn't hear, and was too busy just then to read his lips.

Corporeal Spike lunged at her again, and she was able to get in a few punches while hastily ducking out of his reach. And so began the familiar dance.

Spike had no idea how he'd managed to be captured and jarred like a science specimen, but here he was, watching Buffy fight—himself? _What the fuck was going on here?_

Whatever this box was made of, there was no getting out of it. His ghost abilities did him no good, for he couldn't dissolve through the walls, and neither his hands nor feet would pass through them. He patted every wall like a crazed mime, finding no possible exits. It was air tight. He could hear everything going on outside the box, but Buffy, given her perplexed expression, couldn't seem to hear him shout for help.

_And who the bloody hell was that double in a diaper she was fightin'?_

He was obviously flesh and bone, for they were both making contact with one another, and both were giving as good as they got. The git was even using some of his best moves. As he watched, he suddenly realized he could predict with complete accuracy what his double would do next, and it occurred to him that _this _was his own body he was looking at.

"Hey!" He pounded on the glass. "Buffy! That's ma body! Get ma body back!" She caught his eye, but wasn't understanding him, and quickly became preoccupied with the fight.

Ghost Spike stopped his own fighting inside his box to stare at "himself" in fascination. A vampire can't see his own reflection, so this was a rare opportunity to see what he looked like these days. There was much to admire, if he did say so.

The last year or two had been stressful, what with Buffy's "death", his lovesickness for her, and his fight to get his soul, not to mention the frequent demon-fighting alongside Buffy and the Scoobies. These things, combined with his sneaking into the Magic Box's training room as often as he could, had resulted in a body without an ounce of tubbiness, and long, defined muscles much like his movie idol, Bruce Lee. He knew by feel that he was in good condition, but not _this _bloody good.

As he became more involved in watching the fight, he found he couldn't decide who exactly to root for. He figured this was some symbolic struggle, so he supposed Buffy had to be the victor, but as he watched, he couldn't help flinching when he saw her land a particularly painful punch or kick to his already bloodied body. And he wasn't sure, but it seemed as if his Slayer wasn't giving it her all.

Buffy had fought Spike enough times to know that while the moves were there, the style and finesse were not. Spike's spirit had clearly made all the difference, and, also, she couldn't quite get used to the silence. Usually when they had fought or just sparred, he wouldn't shut up--part of his strategy, she knew, to taunt his opponent and try to break her concentration. She'd come to expect all the sexual innuendo and cheap insults, and much to her surprise, she actually missed them now. The rage and sexual tension had made her a better fighter against him. With only his body, she felt like she was fighting a machine. A really hot, Spike-shaped machine, but a machine nonetheless.

She had to figure out how to incapacitate him without doing too much bodily harm, and her eyes went to the wall near the elevator. _There. That would do. _She tried to lead the fight back in that direction, taking a few hits in order to steer him that way. Then, a few feet away from the wall, she poured on all her strength into grabbing his arm and slinging him head-first into the wall. He slid down, out cold.

"Did I win?" She asked the room. "Can you send me some sort of a sign?"

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened beside her. She looked over at the box where Ghost Spike had been, but he had disappeared. _Nothing I can do on that front,_ she thought. With a deep sigh, she hoisted up Spike's body and walked back into the waiting elevator, leaning him gently against the wall.

****

When the doors closed, she noticed there was already a floor number lit—the tenth. She found she couldn't press any other numbers, so resigned herself to going along for the ride. It was then that Ghost Spike appeared next to her.

"So what the bleedin' hell just happened?" were his first words to her.

She was immensely glad to see him. "I've no idea. Were you able to hear anything the voice was saying out there?"

"I came in on the part about you fightin' the champion to save the champion, or some such rot."

"Yet, it was pretty rotten, alright. So," she looked on the floor where Corporeal Spike lay, still out. "this seems to be your missing half."

"Yeah, s'pose so. Didn't put up much of a fight, though, the ponce. So why are we—I—still separated?"

"I've no idea. Maybe Fred and Wesley can figure this out. Hopefully we're going to the right floor this time. I was headed to the lab before being shanghaied to Fight Club."

The door slid open and Buffy picked up Spike's body again, carrying it easily to the glass doors marked _Research Science Laboratory, Winifred Burkle, Director. _Since she didn't have a key card for this particular door, she pounded on it, while Spike walked right on through it.

"Show off," she mumbled. A minute later, Fred was opening the door for her, looking in some surprise at the second Spike she brought in with her.

"Put him on this table here," she directed, reaching out to help Buffy with her load.

"I got it," Buffy said brightly. "Slayer strength comes in handy." She laid him gently on the table, unable to stop from brushing the soft hair back from his forehead. She blanched a little as she surveyed the damage she'd done, while Ghost Spike looked on, a confused expression on his face.

"Should I be jealous?" he asked, oddly feeling just that way at her tenderness toward his body. She smiled as Fred brought some cloths and antiseptic.

"Maybe…" she replied, enjoying his annoyance. She quickly explained to Fred what had happened in the white room, while they both ministered to Corporeal Spike's wounds. Ghost Spike felt strangely aroused at the two beauties tending to his body, and soon turned away so they wouldn't notice, pretending to study a poster of the periodic table.

"What should we do with him?" asked Fred.

"I don't know. Do you have some sort of holding cell around here? Who knows what he might do when he wakes up. He was sort of on auto-pilot when we fought. I don't know if someone was controlling him, or if he acted on pure instinct. You know—vampire, slayer, kill, kill? That's how Spike was when I first met him."

"Hey!" Spike turned on her. "I'll have you know—" he saw immediately that she was teasing him, and smirked back. "Those _instincts_ a mine had you runnin' scared, Slayer, fearin' for your very life." As he spoke, he sidled over to her in his sexy, cat-like way.

Buffy snorted. "As if."

While they continued with what Fred saw as cute banter, she picked up the lab phone and called Wesley, bringing him up to date. He agreed to be right there, and Fred had a couple of her assistants struggle to drag Spike's body to a plexiglass room just off the lab. They all cringed when they bumped the body's head against the doorjamb.

"Watch it, ya gits! That's ma body you're bangin' about!" Spike said indignantly. He watched helplessly as they unceremoniously dropped his body on the floor, quickly coming out and locking the thick door.

"You think that will hold an angry vampire?" Buffy asked, looking with concern at the flimsy looking walls.

"We kept a Chaos demon in there once for observation," said Fred. "He wasn't too happy either, but never got out, thank goodness."

"Got no use for Chaos demons," Spike said snidely, remembering how Drusilla had jilted him for one.

Fred and Buffy stood a moment, admiring Corporeal Spike's mostly naked form.

"Wow," said Fred. "Has he always been that, uh…fit?"

"Yeah," said Buffy, blushing a little.

"You know, I never would have guessed. He wears that big duster all the time…"

"Yeah…" Buffy sighed.

Ghost Spike was standing right behind them, eating up their praise. "I work out," he contributed. Both women looked at him, embarrassed at being caught.

Spike noticed a cut above Buffy's right eye. He went back over to the table where they'd recently doctored his body.

"Come here, luv," he called to Buffy. "You're bleedin' too." She gingerly touched her cut, feeling the slight wetness. Using his newfound skill, Spike managed to lift a cotton ball and dab lightly at her injury.

"I don't know why, but I feel like I should be apologizing for this," he whispered. She reached up to touch his hand, but the cotton fell away as he lost focus. Their eyes met, and they realized simultaneously how close they were to being able to reunite completely, now that they had at least recovered his body.

"Spike, I—" But she was interrupted by a loudly cleared throat.

Wesley had arrived, but he wasn't alone; Angel and Gunn had joined him. Angel had never seen Buffy and Spike together in any sort of romantic way, so his first instinct upon witnessing their tender moment was to interrupt it.

"Angel," said Fred. "I take it Wesley let you know what Buffy found." She indicated their recent prisoner. Angel looked into the room, grimacing. "Don't tell me there's two of them now," he groaned.

"More a me to love, Peaches," said Spike gleefully.

Ignoring Angel, Buffy turned to Wesley. "Hello, Wesley. It's good to see you again. You've…changed."

Wesley smiled, knowing in his heart how dramatic the change had been. Gone were the expensive tailored suits, the GQ haircut, and the geeky glasses that Buffy must remember.

"Guess we've all grown up a little," he said, noting her own obvious maturity. "As Spike would say, not quite the Nancy boy I used to be."

Buffy returned his smile, immediately liking him, just as instinctively as she'd immediately hated him when he'd been a new Watcher years ago in Sunnydale. This Wesley had paid his dues, and she liked the new character lines around his eyes and his more confident bearing. With his two-day beard and casual sweater, she found him to be quite sexy now.

Speaking of sexy, Buffy hadn't missed the other visitor to the lab. "You must be Charles Gunn. Angel's mentioned you. Had your own slayer operation once upon a time."

"Buffy Summers. Always wanted to meet a _real_ slayer. Call me Gunn."

She held out her hand, which he took and shook, squeezing hard to check her grip. She complied, noting how his grin of admiration quickly turned to a grimace of pain that nearly brought him to his knees.

She heard Spike's laughter. "It's easy to underestimate her, mate. I once made that same mistake."

"Which I won't be making again," Gunn said, rubbing his hand.

"Maybe we can exchange slayer tips sometime." She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"Hey, guys," Fred called from her Corporeal Spike vantage point. "He's waking up."

Everyone gathered around the plexiglass. Corporeal Spike was sitting up, one hand going to his head in apparent pain.

"Ya might want to give me some blood. I get a mite peckish after a good brawl," Ghost Spike said to Angel, rubbing his own head. Angel saw Buffy looking at him expectantly. He sighed and walked over to the phone.

"Harmony, send some blood to the lab, please."

"What temperature you want it, boss?"

"Room temperature." He smirked at Spike's look of outrage, about to hang up.

"Oh, and one more thing," Spike interceded, "Can you give the poor sod something to put on? Can't have these women ogling him all day."

"Harmony, also send down those extra clothes I keep in my desk drawer."

"Are you guys having a party down there—" Harmony was saying when Angel hung up on her.

"So, you guys," Buffy said to Fred and Wesley, "any ideas of how we can get these two kids back together?"

"No clue," replied Wesley. "I'll hit the books though. If it's in print, we'll find it, Buffy." He nodded to them all and headed back up to his office.

"Thanks, Wesley," Buffy called after him, marveling at how you can take the guy out of the Watcher, but…

"I've certainly never heard of anything like this happening," Fred interjected, "but I've got one theory…" her voice trailed off, and Buffy could almost see the wheels turning in Smart Girl's brilliant mind. In full research mode, she almost skipped over to her laptop.

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Gunn mentioned that he might have access to some pertinent information in the firm's extensive law library, so he too made his exit.

And then there were only three of them standing around the new exhibit.

"Like a well-oiled machine," Buffy complemented Angel's team.

"Yeah. They're great. I was lucky enough to find my own set of Scoobies." They shared a reminiscent smile.

Ghost Spike didn't like that one bit. He dragged his hand through his hair and moved closer to the glass of his body's cell. At once, Corporeal Spike dragged his own hand through his own hair, got up, and moved to stand right in front of Ghost Spike at the glass wall. He stood there, seeming to wait expectantly.

"Did you see that?" asked Ghost Spike.

"What?" asked Buffy.

Ghost Spike began moving his arm up and down, then right and left. In perfect sync, Corporeal Spike performed the same action.

"Well, monkey see, monkey do," grinned Angel.

"Very mature, Liam," snarked Spike. "Hmmm… whata ya know. Hey, Fred," he called.

She joined them at the window, and Ghost Spike demonstrated his new discovery.

"That must have been why they had Spike One isolated while I fought…Spike Two," Buffy guessed. "Someone else _was_ pulling his strings, and didn't want Spike One to interfere." She watched in amusement as Ghost Spike continued to play mirror with his body.

"I don't know what to make of it, but it certainly adds another variable to the equation,"said Fred, deep in thought. Armed with another piece to the puzzle, she returned to the computer.

"Well, as hilarious as this is, I'm gonna get back to work," Angel said. "I know a few mystics that might have some input. Anything else you need, _Buffy_?" She noticed he pettily didn't say _Spike. Those two are just like bickering brothers, _she thought, shaking her head.

"I appreciate you putting everyone on this." She glanced at the two Spikes, staring at each other like Narcissus into the pond.

"I mean it, Buffy. Anything I can do…" She reached up and kissed his cheek.

"It looks like you _are_ doing everything. Thanks, Angel."

Angel looked affectionately into her eyes, waved to Fred, and he too left the lab.

Spike was aware of the entire exchange and could barely tamp down his jealousy. Once again, the Magnificent Poof was marking his territory, and Buffy didn't seem to mind much. He watched her as she watched his body.

"Ya know," he began. "Angel and _his_ body are a package deal."

She smiled at his uncertain tone, but continued to stare into the plexiglass room. "Yeah…"

"I mean, he can give you…well, everything I can't right now." She turned to look into his wounded eyes.

"Not everything, Spike. He will never love me like you do." He caught his breath at her words, at the simple truth of it that he could never dispute. Angel had left her high and dry, _by choice. _If he ever got his free will back, he swore right then that he would stand by her for the rest of her life.

"No, pet. That he can never do." He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She only felt a brief flutter as he touched her, but her heart pounded as if he'd kissed her passionately.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Corporeal Spike, his lips pressed against the glass in a wet kiss. She laughed in spite of herself, and Ghost Spike shrugged in embarrassment. Then, a wicked thought occurred to him, centering on a latent fantasy about threesomes. As if reading his mind, Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't even think about it, ya perv."

About this time, Corporeal Spike's blood and clothes arrived. Buffy got Fred to unlock the door, and she ventured inside the holding cell to give the captive his lunch.

She held out the cup, which someone had helpfully topped with a lid and straw. When he wouldn't take it, she looked to Ghost Spike.

"I think you're gonna have to help me with this."

Ghost Spike pantomimed holding the cup and slurping from the straw, and Corporeal Spike followed suit. About halfway through, Ghost Spike had the unfortunate timing of disappearing. Instantly, the cup dropped to the floor, as did Corporeal Spike, landing in a heap of naked arms and legs and spilt blood.

"You gotta quit doing that!" she said to the air in frustration.

Chapter 5

Buffy spent the rest of the day sitting in an uncomfortable chair in front of Corporeal Spike's holding cell, watching him lay there passively, and hoping against hope that Ghost Spike would return. Fred loaned her a laptop so she could pass the time surfing the net, which occupied her for a while. The hours ticked by and she dragged out her cell phone.

Before she'd left Rome, she'd called Giles to let him know she was leaving. She'd simply said: "Spike's alive. I'm heading for LA. Please look after Dawn. I'll call when I can. Bye, Giles!"

He hadn't even had a chance to ask any questions, which was secretly her plan. She knew he might try to talk her out of going, or put doubts in her mind about the validity of Fred's claims. She supposed she owed him a call now, and she also needed to make sure Dawn was alright.

The international call seemed to take forever to connect, and finally her watcher's familiar British voice came on the line.

"Giles, I'm sorry I haven't called sooner. Things have…happened." _Understatement of the new millennium._

"Is it true? Is Spike really alive?"

"Yes. He just appeared in Angel's office several days ago. Only trouble is, now he's like a ghost, but he communicates and acts just like he always did. Except for the walking through walls, thing."

"Hmmm…Does Wesley have any theories?"

"They're all working on it here. Everyone is being really helpful. But there's another twist. Now, Spike's body has appeared. He's all _corporeal_, is the word they use around here. But the body is just that—a body. Nothing seems to occupy the mind. Spike's spirit can control it when they're in the same room together. When Spike's ghost disappears—which is all the time—the body just collapses and does nothing. Weird, huh?"

"Yes, quite." She could almost hear Giles's smirk.

"Not the first time Spike has acted brainless."

Buffy laughed. "True. But we've got to figure out a way to bring them back together. Any ideas?"

"Nothing is coming to mind. I'll certainly start looking here, but from what I've heard, Wolfram and Hart has every resource imaginable. I'm sure they'll have more luck."

"How's Dawn? Is she mad at me for leaving without saying good-bye?" Buffy had left before Dawn had gotten up, and had left her a note to stay with Giles after school.

"She was at first. Buffy, I didn't tell her about Spike. I didn't want to get her hopes up. I know she had a rather close bond with him. She's here now. Would you like to tell her yourself?"

Buffy could imagine Dawn's happiness when she heard the news. She debated not telling her until she had even better news, but Buffy knew how she'd felt when Angel hadn't told her right away.

"Yeah, put her on. And Giles—thanks for coming through for me in a pinch—again. Taking care of Dawn so I don't have to worry."

"You know I'd do anything for you, Buffy. Listen, I hope Spike is restored. I never thought I'd say this, but he really deserves another chance. He sacrificed himself for the world. For you though, more than anyone. Don't worry about Dawn. I'll get her researching this along with me. Watcher training and all. I'll call if I find anything helpful."

"Thanks. I'll be in touch." A few minutes later, Dawn's annoyed voice came on the line.

"Buffy, you are so dead for not taking me with you. And not even waking me up to say goodbye."

"Sorry, Dawn. When you hear why I'm in LA, I don't think you'll be so mad."

"This had better be good—"

"It is. The best. Dawn, Spike's alive."

There was a shocked silence, then a high-pitched teen squeal. "No way! How? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?"

"Yes, way." She tried to answer each question in turn. "He showed up at Angel's. He's not exactly one-hundred percent; actually, he's more like fifty-fifty. But he's still the same old Spike. Mostly he's okay. As soon as I can, I'll figure out a way for you to talk to him."

Dawn was suspicious. "What's with all the double-talk, Buffy? What aren't you telling me? I'm almost eighteen. I can handle whatever it is."

Buffy sighed, but couldn't leave out the smile in her voice at her sister's independent streak. So often lately, she reminded Buffy of herself—well, maybe without Buffy's better sense of style. She explained the situation briefly, mentioning Giles's promise to include her in the research. This seemed to placate her. She chatted a little longer with her about school and boys, then signed off with the mutual promise to call as soon as there was news.

It was two o'clock, and still, no Ghost Spike. Fred was still at work at the computer, but with her regular work, her time was somewhat divided. Buffy couldn't blame her; she knew Fred was trying her best. Buffy was getting a little hungry, and was about to take a break, when the green demon she'd seen yesterday in Angel's office appeared at the door of the lab.

"Hey, sweetie," he said to Fred, kissing her cheek. "I come bearing gifts." From behind his back he brought two take-out bags from a local Italian restaurant. He gave one to Fred, who thanked him profusely. Fred set hers aside and turned back to her computer. The other bag he brought over to Buffy.

"Angel suggested you might not have eaten lunch yet."

Buffy stood up, stretching after sitting so long in what she was beginning to think of as a torture chair.

"Wow, thanks. How thoughtful. I remember you from the office yesterday. Sorry I wasn't on my best behavior. I'm Buffy Summers." She held out her hand, which was taken in the demon's warm, green grasp.

"Of course you are, sugar. Angel cake has mentioned you once or twice." He grinned, leading her to believe that that was an understatement. "Call me Lorne. And I can't blame you for being a little irate about the whole Spike thing. Boy, he's a pistol, that Spike is. I can understand what the ladies see in him."

Despite his scary appearance—and she was including his garish wardrobe in the assessment—Lorne was so totally charming she liked him right away. She pulled her chair up to a nearby table and bade him take the one across from her. She pulled out the plastic lunch containers, marveling that they were all her favorites.

"You want some of this, Lorne? You've brought me enough for a small army."

He laughed. "No thanks, hon." He patted his flat stomach. "Gotta watch my figure, or no one else will."

"Well, I didn't realize how starved I was until I saw this chicken Alfredo. Hmmm…and a Caesar salad too. Mmmmm…garlic bread!'' She began taking bites of everything. Lorne chuckled as she stuffed her face.

"So, Spike made an appearance lately?"

She struggled to swallow, taking a sip of Diet Coke. "No. His body is here though."

Lorne glanced over where Corporeal Spike lay on the floor in his prison. Buffy and Fred had cleaned him up from the blood spill and dressed him in Angel's clothes. They were definitely way too big for Spike, and they'd had to roll up the black trouser legs along with the sleeves of the deep purple dress shirt. Since Angel's shoes would be several sizes too big, they'd left him barefoot.

"Poor guy," said Lorne. "I haven't known Spike long, but something tells me he's not a purple-wearing kinda gent."

Buffy laughed. "No, not at all. Angel supplied the clothes, to spite him, of course. Spike and Angel get off on the taunts and the one-man-upmanship. They've known each other over one-hundred years; lots of bad blood between them—if you pardon the pun."

She took a bite of salad and studied Lorne a minute. "So, can I ask you a personal question?"

"I'm an open book, fair lady. Fire away."

"Well, I don't mean to be rude, but what type of demon are you? I mean, I've slay—I mean, I've _seen_ a lot of demons in my time, but never one like you."

He laughed. "I'm a Deathwok demon, from the Pylea dimension. It's a rare thing for any of us to get out of there, but once I got the chance, I was history. Not a pleasant place. And LA is an absolute dream come true for me."

"Well, Angel must really respect you to have him part of his team here. And any friend of Angel's…"

"Likewise, princess, I'm sure." Lorne's cell phone suddenly rang. He looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, gotta take this. Duty calls." He answered and Buffy continued eating, enjoying Lorne's over-the-top mannerisms and clever way of speaking. Also, he was talking about some sort of movie deal, mentioning a couple famous actors that impressed her. He suddenly pulled the phone away, covering the mouth speaker.

"I do apologize, but it's back to the grind for me. Hope to get a chance to talk to you more soon."

"Me too, Lorne. Thanks for lunch."

"Next time, I'll make you sing for your supper," he said mysteriously with a wink. Then, with a wave to her and Fred, Lorne went on his merry way.

Chapter 6

It was again late at night when Spike reappeared. This time, he was back in the lab, but no one was there. Well, except for his body. He moved over to the holding cell, and there he lay, flat on his back, a pillow under his head, a blanket covering him. Buffy's doing, he was sure. Still, he imagined he'd have quite a back ache when he woke up, poor git.

At Ghost Spike's presence, Corporeal Spike seemed to have awakened, coming immediately to his feet, as if awaiting orders. He saw that they had clothed him in Angel's oversized, poofter clothing. _I mean, what self-respecting bloke wears purple anyway?_ Spike regarded his body and thought how nice it would be if he would just open the door and walk out of there. At once, Corporeal Spike went to the door, and began futilely turning the doorknob.

"Well, don't that beat all," Ghost Spike muttered. He sent another thought toward his body, and instantly, Corporeal Spike was going through the motions similar to a sobriety test—touching his own nose, walking a straight line, wiggling his fingers. And all Ghost Spike had had to do was think it. A Grinchy grin spread over his face, and he moved to the key pad by the door.

He'd memorized the code when Fred had punched it in to give his body the blood earlier, and so he brought up his finger, concentrating all his power there to touch the four different numbers of the code. There was a soft buzzing noise, and Ghost Spike directed his body to try the knob again. Success! It was an amazing feeling to finally have control over his own body. _For the first time in my entire life, _he thought, laughing to himself.

"Come on, mate," Spike said to his corporeal companion, "les' go have some fun."

******

Buffy was bored out of her mind. She'd finally given up hoping Spike would return to the lab. Everyone else had gone home, so she went back to her borrowed apartment, spending a long time in the huge shower before raiding the fridge again. She was sitting on the couch, watching an old Cary Grant movie on the flat screen TV, eating her sandwich, when a loud knock came at her door.

She opened it when her visitor was mid-knock, and watched Spike's body almost fall into the room. Instinctively, she reached out and steadied him. She looked over, and standing beside him was none other than Ghost Spike, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Hello luv. Up for company?"

"How'd you guys get here?"She asked in surprise.

"'With love's light wings did we o'er perch these walls…'"Spike quoted, fluttering his hands dramatically.

"Yeah, right. Come on in, Romeo—s," she amended, stepping aside.

"Angel's gonna be pissed you let him out. He considers your better half a security risk."

Spike snorted derisively. "Well, what the ponce doesn't know, won't hurt him. 'Sides, we thought you might be bored here all by your lonesome, and that floor was awfully cold for ma pal here."

Ghost Spike directed his body to sit on the couch. Buffy watched him move without the ghost having to move at all.

"You're using mind control on him," she realized aloud.

"Yeah. Pretty cool, eh? Imagine the possibilities…" He looked her up and down, eyes twinkling as he took in the skimpy yellow tank top she wore--sans bra—and the tiny matching sleep shorts. Her hair hung in damp waves. Suddenly very warm, Buffy sat down beside Corporeal Spike, while Ghost Spike sat on her other side.

"Was' on the telly," he asked. "I'm so behind on ma soap, and Angel won't ever tune it in for me."

"You're not here to watch TV," she said suspiciously. "You're up to something, and I wanna know what." She clicked the _off _button on the remote.

"Well, if ya must know, I thought you might be up to some…experimentation…helpin' in ma recovery, a course."

"Ohh…of course." She knew him so well, and he knew _her _so well, that there was no doubt he was just trying to get into her pants again. For her own personal amusement, and because, if she admitted it to herself, she was a little sexually intrigued, she'd play along and see just how far he intended to go with this.

"What kind of experiment?"

His eyes danced, but the rest of his demeanor was very serious. "Les start with my mind control abilities. How 'bout a kiss, luv?"

Her lips twitched. "Purely scientific, right?"

"Oh," he agreed readily, "right!"

"You do realize how kinky this is, on so many levels?"

"Hadn't thought that way at all, luv." In fact, that's _all_ he'd thought about since the idea had occurred to him in the lab earlier that day. "Pucker up now," he encouraged.

"Alright, lay one on me," she said, closing her eyes and waiting. And then Corporeal Spike's lips claimed hers. She expected the kiss to be emotionless and perfunctory, but it was anything but. It started with a little nibble on her bottom lip, then his cool tongue slipped between her lips to tangle with her own. She moaned passionately, her hands coming up to sink into the soft hair of his nape, reveling in his delicious feel and taste, all that she'd denied herself for so long. She was really getting into it, when suddenly Spike's voice was whispering softly in her left ear.

"It's been so long, pet. I know you missed this too. Is he turning you on? I know he is me, and I'm jus' watchin'…" Shocked at what actually was happening here, she pushed Spike's body away. He fell sideways on the couch, and Buffy turned to Ghost Spike, trying to catch her breath.

"That was just…" She was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, baby, it sure was," he grinned happily. "Why'd you stop him?"

Somewhat back in control, Buffy turned to the ghost. "If we're going to continue with this…_experimentation…_we need to set some ground rules."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, you need to shut up when you're—when we…"

"What? I always talk when we—when I—I thought you liked a little dirty talk," he finished defensively.

"Not when your tongue is in my mouth. That's just too…weird." He moved closer to her, twisting said tongue behind his teeth in a way that, while she'd always tried to deny it, never failed to make her heart pound.

"What if my tongue is occupied in other places, pet?" he asked wickedly. She blushed, trying to ignore those hot images.

"Second rule, don't refer to your body as _him._ It feels like we're having a threesome here, and I'm just not into that." He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not! That body is, in fact, part of _you, _even though your body is not quite part of you right now. You know what I mean?"

"Watch ma personal pronouns—check," he replied gamely, just wanting to get on with his fantasies. "Anythin' else?" He was looking deeply into her eyes again, making her forget what she wanted to say.

"Uhh…yeah. If I say stop, then you stop."

"Buffy," he whispered, hurt but in complete understanding, "that won't ever happen again, I swear. But if you're uncomfortable with this—with _me_—we can stop right now. I understand, luv, I do. No hard feelins'." He rose from the couch, and commanded his body to do likewise. She knew she'd wounded him, but she felt in her soul that if she didn't bury this last fear, gain this last reassurance, she would never be able to be with him in that way.

She stood up too, wishing for the millionth time that she could touch him—all of him, at once. "Please, don't go. I just had to mention it this one last time. Now, I promise I've moved on. _We_ can move on." She looked up at him shyly. "If you still want me, that is."

"Bloody hell, you know I do. I'll do anythin' to make you happy, to make up for all my mistakes. Jus' give me the chance…" She felt Corporeal Spike at her back, his face in her hair, rubbing into her like a cat. She turned into his arms, kissing him again with all her might, wishing it was really all of him, but helplessly drowning in the familiarity of his mouth and body as he moved against her. This time, Spike's body pulled away. Buffy looked over at Ghost Spike in confusion.

"Les' take this to the bedroom, kitten," he said seductively. Then, while he was speaking, his body picked her up in his strong arms and carried her to the queen-sized bed. He lay her down gently, and continued kissing her while Ghost Spike sat on the bed beside them, taking it all in, using his thoughts to guide his body in what his soul wanted most.

He made his hands caress her breasts through the fabric of her top, at the same time his mouth moved to her neck to lick and kiss before moving lower. She was panting and he watched her hands move over him, reaching for the buttons of the borrowed shirt, pulling it over his shoulders to reveal his muscular torso. He made his arms slip out of the sleeves, then pulled her close again, mouth back on hers.

While Ghost Spike could physically feel nothing, he was going to use his remembered knowledge of her body to make this good for her. He had some trepidation about actual intercourse with her, still thinking it would be like watching someone else having sex with his girl. He just didn't know if he could handle that. Still, he was of the mind that any way he could have her, he would gladly take her. So he thought of how it would feel to free her beautiful breasts from her top, and move his mouth over her, taking her in. And while his mind thought, his body complied, and he eagerly enjoyed her little whimpers and sighs of approval.

_ Its like I'm in ma own skin flick, only I'm the writer, director, and actor, all in one. _

"You're so lovely," he was saying close to her ear. "I jus' want to give this to you. To love you like you deserve, pet." He watched his own mouth descend lower toward her naval, dipping his tongue in while she writhed and held his head against her firm stomach. Just as his hands moved to pull down her shorts, Ghost Spike felt himself fading away. _Oh no. Please, not now…_

Buffy felt Spike's spirit seem to leave his body, and she was left with the vampire's empty shell, laying heavily against her lower body.

"I didn't say stop, did I?" She asked the absent Spike, willing her heart and breath to slow. She lovingly touched his hair one last time, then slid herself from beneath him. She sighed and reached for her tank top, taking a minute to cover Spike's body and rearrange him more comfortably on the bed. She looked at his blank eyes a moment. They reminded her too much of shark eyes, so she closed them with her fingers. Now she could just pretend he was sleeping.

Just then, the phone beside her bed rang. It was Fred.

"Buffy," she said anxiously, "Wesley and I have something we want to try. Can you meet us in the lab? Oh, and is Spike One with you?"

"No, but Spike Two is,"Buffy replied, looking at her guest.

"How did he get out? I thought for sure that cell would hold him…"

"Spike One used his Jedi Mind Tricks, and they both ended up here in my apartment. Now Spike One is gone, and I'm left to babysit."

Fred laughed her musical laugh that endeared her to everyone. "I suppose without the mind, the body won't be able to do anything. It will probably be alright if you want to just lock him in your room. We'll be down at the lab in a minute."

Buffy got dressed again. She was headed for what she hoped was a solution to their latest impossible situation.

_I think we're about due for a break, don't you? _Buffy said, looking at the beautiful man who looked so peaceful in her bed. Unable to resist, she kissed the now sleeping body softly on the lips.

"I love you," she whispered, before going to the door and locking it behind her.

Chapter 7

Fred let her in the lab, and they both walked over to the table where Wesley had set up shop amidst a pile of books and open laptops. On top of a book with a Latin title_, _Buffy noticed a familiar object: the amulet Spike had worn when he destroyed the Hellmouth. She picked it up gingerly, a mixture of emotions clouding her thoughts.

"Where'd this come from?" she asked Fred softly.

"Angel didn't tell you? It arrived in the mail the day Spike appeared, in a big envelope. No return address. The minute he opened it, _poof_ --instant Spike."

"We think the amulet is the key to Spike's return," injected Wesley. "It makes the most sense. It's what kill—took him away, and it accompanied his return. While we couldn't find anything in any of the old texts or prophecies, the amulet seemed the logical place to start."

Buffy held the amulet up to the fluorescent lights, watching as the jewel in the center sparkled. It was pretty, she thought, in a gaudy, ancient kind of way. She vividly remembered placing it in Spike's hand the day before he died. The day before she sent him to his death. Suddenly, it didn't seem so pretty anymore, and she dropped it like a snake. It clattered on the table.

"So, what do we do with it now?" she asked.

"Well," Fred answered, "we put it around Spike Two's neck in the presence of Spike One. Hopefully whatever power is in the amulet will draw the two back together again."

Buffy considered this a moment, and was immediately bombarded with some serious doubts about the consequences of such an action. "What if it kills him again? What if it does something we can't even predict right now? I mean, as simple as the idea is, the damn thing is so powerful, it could make things worse." _I could lose him altogether,_ she finished to herself.

Wesley and Fred looked at each other. They'd obviously had this conversation already. "It _is_ a risk," Wesley said. "But we may be running out of time here. Spike might vanish and never return. His disappearances are becoming longer and longer."

"Buffy," Fred said, "did Spike tell you where he goes when he disappears?"

She shook her head, the feeling of dread returning. By the pained expression on Fred's face, she knew this wasn't going to be good.

There was no gentle way of saying it.

"He told me he's being pulled into Hell." Buffy felt her eyes welling with unshed tears. She reached up and wiped her eyes before they could spill over. _No time for that_.

"And you haven't come up with any other options?"

"No," came Wesley's quiet reply. "I seriously doubt this kind of thing has ever happened before. And there's nothing remotely similar to this situation in any of the prophecies I've read."

She met their eyes. "You're right then. Time is of the essence, apparently. Let's do it."

Wesley and Fred followed her back down to her apartment, hoping that if Spike were to reappear, it would again be near his own body. Before she could get her key card out, however, Buffy noticed the door to her apartment was not completely shut. She held her hand up to her companions, indicating that they wait silently. Tentatively, she pushed open the door.

When nothing jumped out at her, she proceeded further in, Wesley and Fred following despite her wishes. She guessed they were more than used to backing up Angel by now. It didn't take long to search the place to know that it was empty. _Completely_ empty. Spike's body was gone too.

"You say Spike can control his body now," said Fred as they stood looking at the empty bed.

"Yeah, in a manner of speaking," Buffy replied, blushing a little at the things he'd made his body do to her not so long ago.

Wesley, always a gentlemen, didn't comment on her embarrassment or the place she'd apparently left the body. "Perhaps Spike came back and took his body with him somewhere. Maybe they're—he's looking for you right now."

Buffy looked up from the bed she'd been unconsciously staring at. "Could be. I guess we should start looking. Fred, does he ever come when you call?"

"He has before. I'm not sure how much control he has over that."

They spent a minute calling Spike's name, but met with no luck.

"We'll go back to the lab and check,"said Wesley. "Buffy, why don't you call Angel and see if Spike's with him. Before you came, annoying Angel was Spike's favorite pastime. I can see the endless possibilities now that he has his body to help in the process."

Buffy smiled. Wesley was very observant. Given time, he might have become a great Watcher. She waved them off as she reached for her bedside phone to call Angel. He answered on the second ring.

"Yeah?"

"Angel, it's Buffy. You wouldn't by chance have seen Spike would you? Body or soul?"  
"You've lost them both now?" was Angel's incredulous reply.

"Well, you don't have to get snarky." She briefly explained the situation, leaving out the interlude in her apartment, of course.

" I haven't seen him, in any manifestation, so I guess we need to find him before he starts causing any more trouble than he already has. I'll get Gunn to help too. Have you tried the White Room again?"

"No. I'm not sure how to get back there. I mean, the elevator took me there when I thought I was going to the tenth floor."

"Gunn knows a little something about the place. Meet us in my office."

Buffy was suddenly reminded of how bossy he was. She let the smile enter her voice at the sound. "Okay, I'm on my way. And Angel…thanks…again." He hung up without replying, already in mission mode.

As Buffy stepped off the elevator near Angel's office, she could already hear him and Gunn talking about their next move. She paused outside the door.

"We already got help once from the Partners with Spike and we blew it," Gunn was saying. "I don't think they'll be too forthcoming now. 'Sides, how does a corporeal Spike benefit the company? I mean, what's in it for them to return Spike to normal?"

"I've no earthly idea," said Angel. "To tell you the truth, I don't give a rat's ass if I never see Spike again. God knows he's been a thorn in my side for well over a hundred years now. Any help I give him is strictly for Buffy—and to get him the hell out of here…" Buffy had the satisfaction of seeing Angel's eyes widen in surprise as she chose that moment to enter his office. He had the grace to actually look abashed at what she likely overheard.

"I'm well aware there's no love lost between you and Spike. And frankly, I don't give a damn about that. Whatever your motivation, I'm grateful for your help. But you need to accept that _my _motivation is to bring back the man I love. I owe him that much. Hell, the _world_ owes him that much. That being said, I don't care if we're on the same page—in the same _zip code_ is good enough for me." She turned to Gunn.

"So, you're the expert on the White Room? That's where I first saw Spike's body, so maybe they have him back there again. Can you take me there?"

A meaningful look passed between Gunn and Angel. "Sure. I can try. The Senior Partners are pretty stingy when it comes to being helpful, though. I'm not sure they're into second chances."

At that moment, they were joined by Wesley and Fred, amulet in hand, but no Spike. "Given he's not here either," Wesley said to the room at large, "I assume we're talking about finding Spike in the White Room?"

Fred visibly shivered. "I hate that place," she muttered.

The five of them crowded into Angel's private elevator. Gunn reached out and pressed a series of floor numbers on the wall, which acted as a sort of combination. A white button, invisible before, suddenly appeared at the top of the other buttons. Gunn pressed it, and everything went white. Seconds later, Buffy and the others found themselves in the familiar room.

Once they got their bearings, the group looked around, but saw no sign of Spike. Gunn paused, looking into the blank distance, where a big, black panther faded into view and walked sinuously toward them.

"Nice kitty," said Buffy under her breath. Angel's lips twitched.

"The cat is a conduit to the Senior Partners," he said softly. "Gunn can commune with it and hopefully find out what's been going on with Spike." They watched in silence as the cat and Gunn stared into each other's eyes for a full five minutes. Then, mission accomplished, the panther walked back from whence it came, fading again into the distance.

"Well," said Buffy to Gunn, "you get anything from your mind meld?"

"Yeah. Looks like Spike is in the middle of a war."

"Between who?" asked Angel, flabbergasted.

"The Senior Partners and The Powers that Be."

Wesley didn't seemed too surprised. "They're fighting over his soul, aren't they?"

Gunn nodded. "Keep in mind this is just from the Partners' point of view, but the amulet Angel gave Buffy was meant for Angel to wear, not Spike."

"That's what they—whoever—told me last time I was here," supplied Buffy.

"Well, the Partners trapped Spike's soul in the amulet and sent it back to Angel to rectify the situation. They didn't say how, but I'm sure Angel wasn't going to benefit from it. Spike's soul was released and on its way to Hell, when the Powers intervened, trying to prevent that from happening."

A thought occurred to Wesley. "So whenever Spike disappears, that's the Partners trying to pull him to Hell, and when we see him, the Powers are trying to hold him back."

"Looks like it."

"What's with his body?" Fred wanted to know.

"An attempt by the Powers to fulfill the Shanshu prophecy."

Angel turned away. "So it's Spike now, is it?"

"Wait," said Buffy, "the sushi whatty?"  
"The Shanshu prophecy," said Wesley. "speaks of a vampire with a soul who will be rewarded with a human body after fighting to end an apocalypse."

"It might have been either Angel or Spike," added Fred. "I mean, they're both Champions."

"Sorry, Angel," said Gunn. "it looks like it's coming down that way for Spike." Angel remained silent, an almost tangible sadness emanating from the vampire Champion.

"Let me get this straight—Spike is supposed to become human? When? How?" Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. First, a soul, then a living body? No more vampire Spike? Part of her was overjoyed to hear such a thing was possible; part of her wondered how much he would be changed. She had finally learned to love him as he was, and now the possibility that he could be radically different scared her more than she could process.

"The prophecy isn't specific," answered Wesley. Until we knew about Spike's soul, we all assumed it was Angel. This would explain the fight over Spike."

"The Partners have thrown a wrench in things though," continued Gunn. "They've hijacked Spike's body, taken control of it since it's on their turf. The Powers can't do much here. Evil is a powerful thing."

"Why was I fighting Spike's body?" asked Buffy.

"They wanted you to kill him. They might have control over the body, but they can't kill it. The Powers must have built in that safeguard. I guess the Partners figured a Slayer could get around that."

"They lied to me, then. They said I couldn't kill him."

Angel chose that moment to speak, his voice bleak. "No surprise there. They didn't want you to hold back. They obviously didn't count on you caring about how much you hurt him."

"But my senses told me his body was a vampire. Not a human. Not a living body. He's still cold to the touch, he still drinks blood."

"The prophecy says a vampire with a soul could become human. They must need to reunite Spike's body with his soul first in order to do that," Fred speculated.

"So when I was fighting Spike's body, the Partners had isolated his soul, knowing that Spike could direct his body to do whatever he wanted, including not to fight me."

"And maybe to prevent the body and soul from joining somehow," said Wesley. "The Powers might have managed to step in too. Spike's spirit was released soon after."

"Once Spike figured out he could control his own body, the Partners took control again," Buffy inserted. "But now Wesley and Fred think it's as easy as getting the amulet back around his body's neck in the presence of his soul."

"Likely why both have disappeared now," said Angel. "The Partners realized we figured out the loophole."

"Maybe you need to visit the Oracles," suggested Gunn.

"If there are any there to talk to," said Angel. "Let's see what we can do here first. The amulet idea seems sound." He held out his hand, and Wesley tossed it to him. Angel studied it a moment, regret clouding his features.

Buffy knew how much becoming a human must have meant to him. It was the very thing that had stood in the way of their relationship. With this prophecy business, he must have finally found a purpose beyond seeking redemption for his past crimes. This would have been a reward for all of his sacrifices. This might have meant he could win Buffy back. So it was a triple whammy, what with Spike having won the girl, the soul and the human body. The part of her heart that would always love him ached for him now. Wordlessly, he held up the amulet by its chain. And, for the second time, Angel gave it to her, their eyes meeting as their hands touched, communicating all that they could not say.

So deep were their emotions in that moment, that it was quite a shock when their vampire-sensing abilities suddenly kicked in. Buffy and Angel both looked up at the same time. Walking toward them from the same direction the panther had taken came Spike. Well, Spike's body, anyway. And he was armed to the teeth. In one hand he carried a large ax, in the other, a sword. This time, he was wearing body armor over leather shirt and pants, heavy boots protecting his feet. This Spike wasn't messing around. The Partners had clearly changed their approach. It was going to be kill, or be killed.

Angel looked to his friends to suggest they prepare for battle, but all but Buffy disappeared in a flash. It was up to them to take care of this.

"Don't kill him," Buffy was saying. Angel actually looked disappointed.

"Yeah, okay."

She turned to look him in the eyes. "I mean it, Angel. Our goal is to get this amulet back on his body, then worry about finding his soul. You good at ring toss?"

"I've played horse shoes and roped a calf before. Will that do?"

Some other time she would have to ask about the calf thing; right now, they had more pressing things to worry about, which in fact was standing right before them, swinging his ax.

"I guess it will have to."

Angel and Buffy moved in to attack.

Chapter 8

Angel and Buffy had been fighting Spike's body for about twenty minutes with nothing to show for it but an ax wound to Buffy's thigh and a stab in the side for Angel. Without weapons, it was very difficult to make any gains. Their main objective was to knock him off his feet, but so far it was impossible to distract him enough from his mindless—literally—battle mode.

"You've gotta let him take me down," said Angel when they had backed away a moment to regroup. Spike stood in one place, patiently waiting for the battle to resume.

"Angel—no. I mean, what if he lops your head off?"

"It would be Spike's dream come true." He smiled briefly, but saw that Buffy didn't find the thought amusing. "Look, he gets one of his weapons stuck in me, that leaves him only one, and maybe distracts him enough so you can move in and get the amulet around his neck."

Buffy looked into her former lover's eyes, remembering again why she had loved him once. And why a part of her always would.

"Okay. But I don't think vampire healing extends to re-growing limbs, so watch all your—uh, _appendages_."

"No problem there. Let's get back to brainless here and bell ourselves a cat."

******

Somewhere, in a darkened room, Spike found himself back inside his glass, upright coffin, seething with rage. Okay, he was used to his unannounced disappearing acts, but he bloody well wasn't used to being pulled away from oddly kinky reunion sex with Buffy. And he sure as shit wasn't used to his body and soul being in two places at once. Whoever was in control here, he knew in his incorporeal gut that his two halves were being pulled even farther apart. And farther away from Buffy.

A howl of anguish escaped him.

"Spike," came a soft voice that reached him even over his frustrated outburst. He looked through the class of his box and saw a vision he never thought he'd see again. She was dressed all in white, and white light surrounded her like an angel. Or a white witch.

"Glinda," he muttered in surprise, for there before him was Tara, Willow's dead lover. He sensed in her the same serenity and happiness he always had, the same nonjudgmental acceptance. She had been the only one of Buffy's friends he'd truly liked, the only one who treated him like a person. While he'd respected Anya's brutal honesty, Tara had been genuinely good and kind to him.

"Yes," she smiled at him, and he plainly detected affection emanating from her ethereal form. She looked over his prison. "Looks like you need some help."

"Huh? Well, yeah. But how the bloody hell are _you_ here?"

Her wide blue eyes shone with amusement. "It's good to see you again, Spike. I was sent here by the Powers that Be."

"So, what—you're all ghosty now, like me?"

"Sort of. I was there, Spike, at the Hellmouth during the Apocalypse. I helped Willow with her Slayer spell. I saw how you died to save the world. Wolfram and Hart had meant the amulet for Angel, you know. The Powers are trying to right this wrong."

"So Angel gets to burn up in the next apocalypse? Sounds like a fair trade to me."

She laughed. "No. The Powers have other plans for him. But now, we need to get you back together with your physical body."

"I'm all for that. But I'm pretty well stuck in here at somebody else's pleasure. The Powers haven't taken an interest in helpin' me out before."

"But they were. They've kept you from Hell these weeks you've been back."

"You don' say. Look, not to be ungrateful, pet, but it sure has felt like Hell lately. And with Buffy back—well, let's just say I've experienced a new definition of torture."

"Of course it must have felt that way. But trust me, you are our top priority right now." She suddenly looked up, as if listening to someone speaking to her. Spike heard nothing.

"I'm afraid our time is running out, Spike." She raised her hand, and the glass box instantly disappeared.

Spike stretched out his arms in appreciation. "Now that's more like it. Was gettin' soddin' claustrophobic in there. Thanks, love. Always were the good witch."  
"You're welcome. Now, we must get you to Buffy. It was good to see you, Spike. Be well."

"Yeah, you—" but she had already disappeared. "too…" he finished softly. Then, before he could say "bollocks," he too vanished.

****

Buffy couldn't help but shutter as Spike's body buried his battle ax deeply into Angel's right shoulder. Wasting no time, she kicked Spike in the stomach, and watched him fly across the room, the sword clattering away as he fell to the white floor. She was on him in a second, pounding his face over and over until he passed out. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the amulet, now lifting his head gently to place the chain around his neck.

At first, nothing happened, but then the amulet began to glow, then pulse with an eerie blue light. Buffy looked over at Angel, now lying in a pool of blood. He was trying to sit up, but the pain and the awkwardness of the embedded ax were making it difficult.

"Something's happening with the amulet," she said, limping over to help him. "It's goin' all blinky."

"Any idea what that means?" he grunted, as she grabbed onto the handle of the ax and pulled, one leg digging into his shoulder for leverage. It slid out with a nauseating _slurrrpp, _accompanied by Angel's groan of agony. She laid the ax aside.

"No clue, but the last time he wore it, beams of light shot out and he went up in flames. It had fed off of his soul, I'm guessing, but I'm really praying that we miss that repeat performance."

"Yeah, me too," Angel said weakly, "considering it also wiped out a bunch of vampires, right?"

"Yeah," she grinned. She looked at him with concern. "You gonna be okay?"

She helped him sit, taking off his shirt to use it to try to staunch the blood. His sword wound didn't look too bad, but the ax had almost gone completely through his shoulder, and she wasn't too far off in her prediction of his possible dismemberment. An inch or two more…

"I've had worse," he replied. "You'd better see to Spike before he wakes up."

She tore off one of the sleeves of his shirt and took it back to the body, using it to tie his hands behind his back. After she rolled him back over, Buffy took a moment to brush the blood-tinged platinum hair from his swollen closed eyes, and almost gave in to the temptation to kiss his full bottom lip. _This isn't really him,_ she had to remind herself. Then she winced at the pain in her thigh from her crouched position. She sat down heavily beside Spike's body to try to regain her strength, her eye on the steady pulse of the amulet's stone.

"Now what?" she said to Angel.

"I guess our only hope now is that Wesley and the others can figure out how to get back in here and save us. Otherwise, we wait to see what twisted new game the Partners have planned."

"Well those are crappy options. I for one—"

Then, everything seemed to happen at once. Buffy got a brief glimpse of Ghost Spike nearby, and he barely had time to say her name before a roar like a jet taking off combined with a blinding light to inundate her senses. Before she closed her eyes and covered her ears she saw Angel trying to get up to come and protect her from whatever seemed to be attacking them. He reached her quickly and pulled her away from Spike and the glowing amulet. She buried her head in his bare chest against the onslaught; his big hands joining hers over her ears.

It lasted only about two minutes, then it was abruptly silent. Tentatively, Buffy opened her eyes and Angel lifted his hands from her ears, which were ringing like she'd been at a rock concert. The noise had awakened Spike's body, and he was struggling to his feet, cussing like a—_cussing? _Since when did Spike's body say _anything,_ let alone cuss?

"Who fuckin' tied up my bloody hands? Can't a bloke ever get a bloody break in this godforsaken hellhole! I mean, just one sodden time I'd like to—what the bloody hell?" He looked down to see he was wearing armor and leather. What's more, he could _feel_ the weight of it hanging on his body, could smell the leather and metal. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the swelling in his face. Could smell**—**

"Buffy?" He looked up to see her there, her green eyes wide with shock. She was looking into his eyes, no longer blank, but clear and very blue in the bright room. She reached out a hand to touch his face. And there was nothing ghostly about him. He was real. He was solid. He was corporeal. And…he was _warm_.

"Spike," she breathed, and wrapped her arms around him, armor, tied hands, and all. And then her mouth was on his and her hands were in his hair, both familiar and unfamiliar as she reveled in his newfound warmth. They kissed a few moments, tongues entwining sensuously, until she felt Spike trying to pull gently away.

"Untie me luv," he whispered against her lips, "so I can do this proper."

She laughed breathlessly, as she went behind him so she could release him from his final bond. Spike caught Angel's bleak expression as he leaned against the wall, watching them reunite with a sort of wistfulness he knew well from his own personal experience. Spike almost felt sorry for him. _Almost. _For at long last he could pull his girl back into his arms, capturing her mouth again, breathing in her scent and tasting the honey of her tongue. When his hands at last delved into her golden hair, he felt his knees start to shake with the beauty of it.

He felt the wonder of warm blood coursing through his veins, but above all else, he heard the strong, rapid beating of his own, very living heart. He wanted to laugh out loud when he felt it skip a beat as Buffy moaned his name. Spike had no idea how this could be, but he wasn't one to question the few blessings he'd ever received from this cold universe. With tears behind his eyelids, he pulled Buffy even closer.

Chapter 9

Buffy remembered they had an audience and pulled gently away. Despite how overjoyed she was at Spike's corporeal state, she didn't much like twisting the knife while Angel watched. She looked into Spike's eyes a moment before reaching up to touch the bruises she'd inflicted. His poor nose—her favorite target in times past—was swollen and bloodied, and she felt very sorry for doing it, even though it had been necessary minutes before.

"Don't worry, pet; I'll heal."

"Maybe not as quickly now, though," she said, referring to his seeming humanity.

"Yeah—that. Funny, but aside from this infernal pounding in ma chest, I don't feel much different. Tell me, do your Slayer senses identify me as a vampire?"

She paused a moment to focus. No, nothing tingly about him, except of course for the wild attraction she always felt for Spike.

"You register as human, Spike," she said, smiling.

Angel got to his feet, having of course heard every word.

"So, I guess congratulations are in order. I won't say the best man won, but who am I to argue with the Powers that Be."

Spike was trying to be a graceful winner, but somehow couldn't quite achieve it. "Sorry, mate. Roll a the dice and all that. Guess fightin' for your soul is a little more rewardin' than being cursed with one, eh? A little birdie told me they have other plans for you, so don't go dustin' yourself over this. Unless, a course, you feel the overpowerin' need…"

"Spike," Buffy said in warning. Sometimes he couldn't seem to help himself.

"No, that's alright, Buffy. He has the right to gloat. I'd probably be doing the same if I were him."

"No you wouldn't," replied Buffy, ignoring Spike's offended "Hey!" She walked over to Angel and took the hand of his uninjured arm.

"You'll always be my hero, Angel. A true Champion, no matter what the damned Powers do. If what Spike says is true, some other award awaits you. Don't give up. Don't stop fighting the good fight. We need you in this world. _I_ will always need you," she ended in a whisper. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, a thank you for what he'd done today, and for all the days in the past he'd come to her rescue. There would be no justice in this world if Angel weren't rewarded somehow for all the good he'd done.

"Thanks," he said simply, never one to wear his heart on his sleeve—_just my angst_, he thought wryly. With one last squeeze of his hand, she walked back to the one she claimed to love. As long as he existed, Angel would never be able to understand how she could have chosen Spike. Yeah, he had let her go—a couple of times—but he always hoped she'd find someone a little more…normal. Okay, and part of him was still waiting for her to become cookies—_Angel's cookies._

Buffy slipped easily back into Spike's arms as he tried to tamp down his jealousy over watching her kiss the bloody ponce. He looked around. "How the hell do we get out of this place? I'm gettin' snow-blind here."

"We were just trying to work that out before you uh, reappeared. There used to be an elevator on that wall," Buffy pointed. As if on cue, the elevator door suddenly appeared, and there stood Gunn and Wesley, staring at them in surprise as the door slid open.

"That was pretty good, pet," grinned Spike at her apparent powers of suggestion. Wesley held open the elevator while Gunn helped Angel inside. As Buffy walked with Spike, he suddenly realized that she was hurt too.

"Did I do that?" he whispered, taken aback at the cut he saw clearly through her slashed jeans.

"Yeah. Don't worry. I'll heal," she smiled, echoing his earlier words. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they left the White Room behind.

"Looks like the Partners lost this round," said Gunn, noting Spike's corporeal nature. Wesley was looking on with mixed emotions.

"I wonder how they'll retaliate," he said.

Buffy didn't reply, but pressed closer to Spike, refusing to dwell on anything but him.

Angel and Buffy didn't feel much like talking to the rest of the gang, so after being doctored by Fred and Spike, they retired to their separate apartments. They agreed to all meet the next morning for a debriefing.

Fred had checked Spike out too, noting happily that he was indeed human, but with strangely higher than normal body temperature and blood pressure. He didn't feel sick, so they all attributed it to his new state. Maybe things would normalize over time, she had suggested hopefully. He'd surprised her with a bear hug for all her kindness.

"I'm just so happy for you both," Fred said, a smile in her voice.

Spike didn't want to assume anything about his status with Buffy, so he was relieved when she invited him to go with her. He felt the barely remembered sensation of his heart picking up at the thought of being alone with a woman—_this_ woman in particular. And while nervousness was nothing new, the sweaty palms and quickened breathing, remnants of his pathetic past, made him instantly recall just why he was happy when Dru had changed him. It made him almost sick to his stomach—another unwanted memory—that he might revert back to his former Nancy boy self. What self-respecting, strong woman would want such a git in the sack with her?

Buffy noticed Spike's uncharacteristic silence as they rode the elevator to the sixteenth floor and stood once again outside her borrowed apartment. She keyed open the door and they felt the awkwardness of returning to this room with so much changed from when they had last been there together.

"You wanna take a shower first," asked Buffy, trying to break the ice. "You haven't gotten to have one in months."

"You sayin' I smell," he teased, straight-faced, raising his leather-clad arms to sniff at his armpits. When his nose wrinkled at the odor, he suddenly wasn't so offended. "Right. A shower would be good. But you go first. I bet your muscles are aching after your recent workout with Super Spike."

She sidled up to him, her eyes becoming wide and sexy, licking her lips sensually. "We could share…" she suggested, her hands reaching up to pull up his leather shirt from the matching pants. He'd left his armor in a heap in a corner of the science lab.

_Spike in black leather is hot, _she was thinking. He put his hot hands on hers to still them and looked deeply into her eyes. "Buffy, are you sure about this, luv? I mean, I'm not who I used to be, in so many ways. Is this what you really want now? You're used to bein' with a vamp after all." She watched in pleasure the first blush she'd ever seen on his pale cheeks. She realized what he was saying, and tried hard not to laugh.

"I didn't fall in love with the vampire, or with your uh, stamina, although, really not complaining." She felt her own face redden. "I fell in love with the man that you've become. The man who earned his soul for me, then gave his life for the world. And here you are, my second chance." The tears were coming again, because she was so tired of the emotional roller coaster that had been her life for the last eight years. "And I don't know what I did to deserve that with you. God knows I was so screwed up before that I couldn't recognize what I had. And you still love me. You still want me, after all I did to you, how I treated you like a dog—and here you are—"

"Stop it," said Spike, reaching up to wipe her tears with his thumbs. "That was all the past, pet. From where I'm standin', everthin' is different now. And yeah, we've been given this second chance. We'd be bloody idiots to not take full advantage, don't ya think?" Her kiss was her answer. And like he always did with her, he threw his whole heart into kissing her back. Only this time, his "heart" wasn't just symbolic anymore; it was real and pounding and joyful, and ready to burst out of his chest.

He let her pull off his shirt and she marveled at the heat of his muscular torso, the warm firmness of his abs, the lithe strength of his arms and hands as he held her. They began moving toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing and shoes as they went, pausing to kiss and fondle the skin they revealed along the way. Buffy reached in the shower to turn it on, and was pleased to see the multiple jets of water that awaited them.

She turned back to Spike, who had taken the opportunity to hug her from behind so she could feel as well as see how much he wanted her. They kissed again, then, caught off guard by her charms, Buffy laughed when she managed to push Spike into the glass-enclosed shower. He sputtered and slid a little, but righted himself quickly. His tongue curled wickedly, and he pulled her in after him. "You're gonna pay for that, kitten," he grinned, but she didn't seem frightened in the least, slicking her wet hair out of her twinkling eyes.

Amid much soft laughter and moans of pleasure, they soaped each other from head to toe, both overwhelmed at the sensations and their desperate, growing desire. Spike brought her over the edge with his fingers and tongue, delighting in her trembling cries. Before she had the chance to come down, he took her against the tile wall, entering her with a groan of homecoming, his mouth at her neck, harsh breath in her ear as she gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him in more deeply. Their sighs and cries filled the steamy bathroom until both were panting each other's names and yelling out their release, one after the other.

He was reluctant to move away from her, but he felt the water beginning to cool, which wouldn't have bothered him had he been a vampire. Buffy disentangled her legs and took him in her arms, kissing his water-slicked skin, whispering her love in his ear over and over till he wondered if he truly had passed on into heaven.

"My God, Buffy," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "I love you more than anything, more than anyone I've ever known. I can't believe you're really here with me. That you really love me."

She caressed his sharp cheekbones and firm jaw with both hands, then reached up to rake her fingers through his soaked white hair, her eyes never leaving his. "It's my fault you're having trouble believing me. I'll just have to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you. Will you let me?"

He brought her soft palm to his lips. A gentle smile lit his eyes. "With pleasure, pet." And he kissed her waiting mouth, the cold water suddenly forgotten.

**Chapter 10**

There was nothing wrong with Spike's stamina. They had made love three more times that night. First, on the kitchen table after feeding each other the rest of the strawberries. Next, on the floor between the kitchen and the bedroom, because they couldn't quite wait to get there. And finally, they did make it to the bed with the idea to get some sleep, but about an hour into it, Buffy awoke to find Spike underneath the covers, doing incredibly wicked things with his tongue that had her helplessly screaming his name.

It was Buffy that had to beg off due to exhaustion, when he pressed against her for round five. She woke first the next day, spooned against his ultra warm body, his arms wrapped possessively around her, his soft breath tickling the hair at her neck. The sun streamed through the windows and it looked to be a beautiful—she glanced at the bedside clock—_afternoon_? It was a little after twelve noon. She smiled to herself, wondering what Angel and the others must be thinking at their long absence.

She thought of what she and Spike had done the night before, and felt overwhelmed with joy that nothing had interfered with the wild passion they'd known in the past. Actually, it was even better now, because she was no longer ashamed of it, no longer afraid of it. And, of course, she could admit how much she loved him, which made it infinitely more than just sex.

It occurred to her again that Spike's stamina was exactly as before, when he was a vampire. If he were human, how could this be? She had started out last night being gentle with him, as she had with the other two humans she had slept with. Had she poured on the power into their lovemaking, she might have killed Riley and Parker with her Slayer strength. But Spike kept begging her to go harder, to be faster, to employ those internal Slayer muscles that had driven him insane before. And he was none the worst for it. He could have gone on all night with her, had she not stopped him, of that she was sure. Even now, she could feel that part of him was definitely awake, even if Spike wasn't. Huh. Very interesting.

She turned in his arms to look at his face. His completely healed face. She'd wailed on him yesterday in order to knock his body out, and his face had been swollen, his nose obviously broken. Today, it was perfect again. Not even any bruising, which had lasted days sometimes, even when he'd been a vampire. Involuntarily, she reached for his face, and felt his cheeks to be smooth and very warm. She felt his nose and noted that it too had healed. Of course, her touches had awakened him, and she met his sleepy blue eyes with wonder.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, luv," he said, his voice deeper from slumber. "Ya don't have to memorize ma features."

She smiled. "I know. But…wait—" She moved away despite his protests and reached for her purse in the drawer of the bedside table. She pulled out her compact mirror, and brought it to his face. At first, he was surprised to see his own reflection, so he marveled at that a moment.

"Okay, Mr. Vanity, admire later. Do you notice that you look perfect today?"

He smiled into the mirror. "Why thank you pet. I'm not too shabby, but perfect? I—"

"No, no!" she laughed. "I mean that you are completely healed after the beating I gave you yesterday." He sat up at that, his eyes suddenly becoming more critical as he moved the mirror in order to see all the angles of his face. "Bloody hell," he whispered, "you're right, at that." He passed back the mirror and moved his hands over his face. "Know what else? No stubble."

"Vampires shave?" she asked. "I didn't know that."

"I imagine that wasn't in the _Slayer's Handbook_," he mused, touching his cheeks again. "This is gettin' a little weird. I have a heart now, of that I'm sure. I feel no hunger for blood." His stomach growled for emphasis. He laughed. "I'm famished for somethin' solid, however. I heal even faster than I did before. And I had no trouble at all keepin' up with a certain Slayer last night." He leaned over and kissed her lips, smiling at her flushed cheeks. "Curiouser and curiouser…"he whispered as he moved to cover her body with his own.

"And you're also incredibly hot," she said, referring to his body temperature. Of course, he chose to interpret it another way.

"You know it, baby," he moaned as he slid inside. Her laughter turned to echoing moans, as so began round five.

It was nearly two o'clock when Spike and Buffy were ready to head to Angel's office. Spike looked down at what he was wearing in disgust. There had been no way he was going to put that leather shirt back on.

"I looked like one of the bloody Village People," he'd complained. So, now he was wearing a white UC Sunnydale t-shirt, along with the leather pants and boots so kindly provided by the Senior Partners. The shirt had been one of the few mementos Buffy had saved from the Hellmouth, and she sometimes slept in the baggy tee when she was feeling nostalgic. On Spike, it clung to every muscle, emphasizing those killer pecs and abs of his.

"I'm sure Angel or Wesley have something you could—"

"No way. I saw the poncie togs ma body had on that Peaches lent me. And Mr. GQ ain't ma style neither."

"Well, after we meet with everyone, it's off to the mall for you, I promise."

"Just point me in the direction of the nearest black jeans and tee shop, and I'm good. The boots are alright though," he said, admiring the heavy leather work boots, similar to the Docs he used to wear.

"You can no longer use the vamp excuse to be a fashion victim. Let's get some color on you. I love you in blue, and even in that raggedy old red button-up you used to wear."

"I can't believe I'm discussin' fashion with the Slayer,"said Spike to the heavens. "Don't go tryin' to change ma style, pet. Sides, black goes everywhere."

She snorted, and he knew he'd give in and get something with color, but it would only be after a lot of fake whining and complaining on his part. He'd do anything for her, but she didn't need to know just how whipped he'd become if he let her. A bloke had to show some pride, you know.

"It's like a sauna in my pants right now," he continued, wincing at the sound the leather made as they walked to the elevators.

"Ohhhh…I love a good sauna," she laughed. He gave her a sexy leer and backed her into the elevator wall as the doors slid shut behind them. He touched the stop button.

"Ya ever do it in a lift, luv?" he asked suggestively, one hand on her breast, the other moving around to the front of her slacks. She tried to move his hands away, but he wouldn't budge. She put all her strength into it, but she couldn't move him. His lips captured hers but he noticed how she was suddenly very distracted. He pulled away.

"What's wrong, pet?" he asked at the confused look on her face.

"Spike, you're still strong," she said, still trying to push against him. He looked down and saw how she was struggling, and backed away immediately, her bathroom back in Sunnydale coming painfully to mind.

"Sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to—"

"No, Spike. It's not that." She reached out to touch his arm, to reassure him that she wasn't frightened. "I mean, you're _really_ strong. Here, try to stop me from pushing you." She laced her hands with his and put all her Slayer strength into trying to get him to move backward. It was like trying to push a Mac truck. He looked at their hands in surprise. Even before, she would have been able to move him some distance. They'd been near evenly matched.

"Now, push me," she said. One slight push had her slammed against the wall again.

"Sorry, luv! You alright?" He was at her side in a flash, as she slid down the wall in pain. He helped her up, feeling his heart accelerate in fear.

"I'm okay," she said, smiling through the pain. "If I'd been a normal person, my back would be broken." She let him help her up.

"Buffy, I had no idea. I mean, I barely touched you…"

"Well, that would explain the various bruises I have on my body this morning." She saw that this made him look even guiltier.

"No, don't feel bad, Spike. It was the same when we were together before. I'm just whiggin' out here. You seem human—certainly not a vampire anymore. But you're more than human now. Fred should run some more tests on you."

Spike turned away and pushed for the elevator to restart and send them to Angel's office floor. He was relieved to his very core. He'd had only one fear about becoming human again. It wasn't the fear of being mortal; he'd lived a long life, and now that he had Buffy, he could die tomorrow and he'd die happy. No, it was the fear of becoming weak again, like he was before he was turned. He despised the sorry excuse for a man he used to be, and was afraid that Buffy would grow to resent and scoff at that man again, just like everyone else had at the time. But this was great. Better than great. This was humanity with benefits.

He turned back to Buffy again, pulling her to him and fastening his lips on hers, kissing her gleefully until the elevator dinged their arrival. With one last smacking kiss, he grabbed her hand as they walked into the reception area. As soon as Harmony saw him, she ran around her desk and threw herself into Spike's arms.

"Oh, Blondie Bear—it's true! You're all corporeal and stuff!" She rained kisses all over his face while Spike tried to gently extricate himself from the attack. But his "gentle" landed Harmony on her curvy behind. She looked up at him in shock, which quickly turned to anger.

"Hey! What's the big idea—"she began, struggling in her tight skirt and heels to get off the floor. Spike gallantly reached down to help, but she slapped his hands away. Buffy stood by in silence, amused beyond measure. Harmony suddenly stopped struggling and stared up at Spike. "You're not a vampire anymore. You smell like a—"

"Yeah, I'm sorta human now. Long story. But I'm with Buffy, so unless you want to make a Slayer sandwich with me--"

"Ewww…no thank you!" Harmony gave them a look of disgust, finally getting to her feet. She buzzed Angel that two "sex freaks" were waiting to see him. Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike, who chuckled softly and took her hand.

Only Angel and a petite young woman were in his office, and Angel seemed annoyed at their late arrival, especially when they entered holding hands.

"Buffy," he said, "this is Eve, liaison for the Partners." Buffy shook her hand, and Spike had already seen the lady around, so nodded politely.

"Buffy the vampire slayer," Eve marveled. "Honored to meet such a legend."

"Considering all the vamps and demons you have as clients, I would expect I wasn't exactly your favorite person," Buffy replied, releasing her hand.

"Wolfram and Hart admire anyone whose made a name for herself by doing heroic things."

Spike huffed sarcastically. "Right," said Buffy evenly. Eve focused on Spike. "It seems, Mr. Pratt, that you have reunited your body with your soul. The Partners congratulate you, and concede defeat on this issue."

"Why do I detect a big 'but' coming?" Spike asked suspiciously.

"Likely because there is one." Eve glanced at Angel, who was staring out the window as if wanting to be anywhere else at that moment.

"The Partners have agreed to release you from your hold here at Wolfram and Hart on condition that you leave LA immediately. With your new skills, we don't wish you to uh, practice said skills on any of our local clientele."

That caught Angel's attention. "What new skills?"

"Thas right, Peaches," Spike grinned. "Shanshu has been right good to me. Seems I'm not just human, I'm _superhuman._ I'm stronger than the Slayer, have advanced healing powers, and you wouldn't believe my sexual stamina—"

"Spike," Buffy hissed. Angel flinched, then looked away.

"Hey, Eve, can I fly? Go invisible? Shoot lasers out ma eyes?"

Eve laughed. "No, sorry to say. But you can go out in the sun now without burning up."

"You don't say. Well how 'bout that Liam? Can finally work on ma tan." Angel had nothing to say to that. Buffy was feeling really badly for him and wished Spike would stop rubbing it in. She was torn between her happiness for Spike and her pity for Angel. Nothing ever seemed fair in their world.

"When you say _immediately, _I assume you mean today," said Angel, teeth clenched.

"Yes, sorry Spike. That's how it has to be. You must be out of LA by midnight. Sorry I didn't get a chance to get to know you better. I bet you're fun to hang out with."

"Yeah, baby, sorry you'll miss out on all that. You tell the Partners to stay outta my business from now on, yeah?"

"Yes, of course," Eve promised. "But that reminds me of one other thing. We need that amulet back."

"Why?" asked Angel. "So you can try again to get _my_ soul this time?"

Eve laughed. "We wouldn't think of it. It's just technically our property, and we'd like it back." Buffy reached into her pocket and pulled it out; she'd had in mind to give it to Fred before they left. But if that was a condition of Spike's release, she'd gladly hand over the blasted thing. She held it by the chain as if it were poison, and plopped it unceremoniously into Eve's waiting hand.

"Thanks for that,"said Buffy sincerely. "It saved the world, despite all the other problems it caused."

"Now kindly tell the Partners to stick it up their bloody arses," added Spike bitterly. "And don't you worry. I won't be darkening your already dark doors anytime soon. Buffy needs me in Italy to slay some of your _Italian_ clients."

They hadn't actually discussed this, but Buffy was delighted that he was confident enough in her feelings for him that he would assume she'd want him with her in Italy, or wherever she needed him. She reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly. He surreptitiously met her eyes with a twinkle, while still maintaining his bravado.

Eve wasn't intimidated in the least. "I'll pass on the message. Now I strongly suggest you make your plane reservations while you still can. Buffy—truly a pleasure. Spike. Angel." She nodded to both men and exited through the private elevator.

"Oh, and tell your bosses I want ma soddin' coat back!" Spike called as the door slid shut. Buffy and Angel just looked at him. "What? I miss ma coat. I feel naked without it. It's like ma identity's been stolen or somethin'."

"I'll buy you another coat, and you won't even have to kill me to get it," Buffy said in amusement at his childish tone. There was something sexy about pouty Spike.

"But that was half the fun, luv," he said, leaning over to kiss her. Angel's loud throat clearing interrupted them.

"I guess this is you'll be going then," Angel said, wanting to get this over with. Watching them together was just too painful.

Spike walked over to his sire's sire and looked him in the eye.

"I'm not foolin' myself thinkin' you helped me cause you wanted me around. I know it was all for Buffy. But I owe you ma thanks anyhow." Spike stuck out his hand, and, with only a slight hesitation, Angel took it briefly. Spike couldn't resist squeezing just a little harder than necessary, enjoying Angel's brief flinch of pain. Spike released his hand with a slight smile.

"See ya around, Liam," he said softly.

"Spike," was all Angel could manage, but knowing Angel as well as he did, Spike understood all that was unsaid in that one word: _You hurt her and I'll kick your ass. You'll never truly deserve her. I'm so jealous I could cry. I hope I never see you again._

"Give us a minute please, Spike," said Buffy as Spike took his place beside her. She knew he didn't like it much, but she owed Angel this, and Spike understood. He nodded once. "I'll be right outside if you need me." He kissed her cheek and left them.

"You're welcome to take the company jet," Angel offered when they were alone.

"Thanks, but from what I've seen of Wolfram and Hart, we might end up in another dimension. For once, I think public transportation is a little more reliable."

They looked at each other as an awkward silence engulfed them. It was Buffy that finally spoke. "Why are you here, Angel, working in this place? You could come with us, you and your team. Things are changing now. It's not just me against the world anymore. You could help train the potential slayers with me. We could really use your help. And Italy's beautiful this time of year."

He smiled at the offer. "I need to be here, Buffy, for reasons I can't explain to you. Something is coming—I'm sure you of all people can feel it. I can't abandon LA. There are good people here that are going to need me, though I don't know how or when. You have to trust me on this."

"Always. And if you ever need my help—"

"I'll call you. I promise."

Then Buffy was in his arms, hugging him tightly, quietly thanking him for giving her back her life. She felt him kiss the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"You smell oddly like freshly baked cookies," he said with a sad smile. She smiled back into his chest, feeling the bulge of the bandage beneath his shirt. Yet another wound he'd gotten for her.

She pulled away to look up at him. "It happened a little sooner than I expected, but you don't need to worry, Angel. He makes me happy. I hope you find someone who—"

"Don't. No one will ever replace you, Buffy. But hey, I'm glad you're happy, really, even if it's Spike that's bringing that light in your eyes. I just hope he doesn't screw it up."

She laughed. "I have no doubt we both will from time to time. But he loves me, Angel. You've had to see that."

Angel couldn't deny that, as much as he would have liked to use that as another mark against him. "And he has the whole package now. You gotta laugh at the irony." But neither of them were laughing. She stepped away.

"Goodbye Angel. And thanks again for everything. I'll be seeing you."

"Yeah, you will," he said, but he couldn't say goodbye to her again. He smiled at her, but she noticed as she left his office that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

In the reception area, Buffy was just in time to see Spike being hugged by Lorne in a rather uncomfortable moment—at least for Spike.

"Spike! So glad to finally see you in the flesh," Lorne was saying. "This is definitely a cause for celebration!" He released him so abruptly, Spike nearly fell. Buffy could tell he'd done nothing to resist the demon's embrace for fear his newfound power might hurt him. "And Buffy sweetheart, great to see you too. I bet this is just the bees knees for the both of you. So, you darlings up for a night on the town? It's Friday, after all, and the gang sometimes goes to a bar down the street for karaoke night. I used to have a bar, but that's a long story. Anyway, what do you say?"

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, a little overwhelmed by Lorne's enthusiasm. "I guess it depends on when our flight to Rome is. We have to be out of LA by midnight," Buffy explained.

"Turning into pumpkins are we?" Lorne asked, noticing their serious expressions.

"Your bosses are kickin' us outta town," said Spike. "But thas fine with us, mate. LA is apparently not big enough for Peaches 'n me, so I'm off with the Slayer here for much greener pastures."

"You don't say. Well, then we definitely need to give you two lovebirds a royal sendoff. We head over right after work, so if you can make it, meet us in the lobby around five. If you can't, please don't leave without saying goodbye."

"We won't," assured Buffy, waving to Lorne as he let himself into to Angel's office. Buffy looked at Spike, taking his hand in hers. "Guess we have some phone calls to make,"she sighed. "So, now the question is, should we tell Dawn now, or surprise her?"

Chapter 11 and Epilogue

Spike and Buffy, shopping bags in hand, arrived back at the apartment with an hour to spare before they'd meet Lorne and the others at five. The earliest flight to Rome they could get was eleven o'clock, cutting it a little close. It also helped that Harmony had sent Spike's forged new identity to their apartment—passport, British birth certificate, an Italian work card—compliments of Wolfram and Hart. Once again, Spike was William Pratt. He snorted at that, and vowed to change that old wanker moniker of his first chance he got.

They stopped at 1611, and Buffy was sifting through her purse to find the key card.

"Wait!" Spike said in a loud whisper. He paused, sniffing the air. "Someone's been here."

"What? Don't tell me—"

"Thas right, pet," he said, tapping his nose. "_Supersmeller_ here." She rolled her eyes.

"Gimme the key," he said, just as she found it. She handed it to him indulgently, knowing full well she could protect herself if something jumped out at them. He took the card with a flourish and waggled his eyebrows at her. "This looks like a job for—"

"Just open the damn door already," she said impatiently.

Cautiously, they entered, only to find that what he'd likely smelled was the cleaning crew. The apartment was once again in perfect order—bed changed and remade, new towels in the bathroom. The Partners were obviously anxious to be rid of them.

They set down their bags and Spike immediately began to change into his new clothes. Buffy smiled as he pulled out a royal blue t-shirt to go with the black jeans he'd insisted on. She stood by to admire the view of Spike, completely unselfconscious in all his naked glory. He caught her staring and gave her a sexy smirk, but she resisted him and went to the closet to start packing.

She reached inside the closet to pick up her duffle back from the floor and noticed something long and black hanging there in cleaner's plastic. It was a leather duster.

"Looks like you got your cape back, Wonder Boy," she said, bringing it out to him. He was just pulling the shirt over his head.

"What?" His eyes lit up when he saw the coat. "No bloody way!" He took it and pulled the plastic off, then laid it on the bed, staring at it in shock. He knew how he'd gotten every scratch, every scrape on it. The leather was smooth and supple from nearly thirty years of wear. "How can this be?" he whispered, holding it up and turning it around for a better look. "This is it, Buffy. This is ma _actual_ coat. I thought it burned up in the Hellmouth."

"We thought _you_ burned up in the Hellmouth," Buffy said, smiling at his joyful expression. She helped him on with it, and he sighed audibly as the scent of leather engulfed him. "They even had it cleaned for me." He reached his hands into the pockets, and felt a slip of paper there. He figured it was the cleaner's receipt, and was surprised when he saw that it was a handwritten note.

_Wishes do come true._

_Glinda_

He laughed out loud, then stared at it in amazement.

"What's that?" asked Buffy curiously. He handed the note to her. "Who's Glinda?"

Then he explained to her about seeing Tara, and how she'd helped him get out of his glass coffin. Tears were streaming down Buffy's face by the time he finished the story, and Spike took her in his arms.

"I can't wait to tell Willow," she said. "Maybe Tara will visit her sometime."

"Don't know, pet. But she sure came through for me."

Buffy's tear-bright eyes looked up into his. "You're finally getting all you deserve, Spike." She smiled, remembering earlier how he'd stood basking in the late afternoon sun, an expression of complete contentment on his beautiful face.

"Not sure about that, luv. But no looking at gift horses, I always say." He wiped away her tears and leaned in for a gentle kiss, which quickly turned passionate as she opened her mouth for his seeking tongue.

"Hey," he said against her lips, "ya think Superman shags with his cape on?" His hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Well, you'd better be faster than Superman if we're going to be on time to meet Lorne," she replied breathlessly.

"No way, baby. I'll wager this is somethin' even Superman slows down for, else he'd be some kinda git to his poor Lois."

Despite his desire to go slowly, soon enough her slacks had disappeared and she was lying on the bed, Spike's hand tugging on her panties and his mouth at her breast, their hearts pounding in mutual rhythm. He pulled away a minute when she reached for his zipper, freeing him, caressing him, guiding him to where she needed him most. A sudden thought made her smile against his hot kisses. He drew back to look at her, his eyes very blue and very soft, hers filled with laughter.

He'd left his duster on.

**Epilogue**

Lorne had waited until Buffy and Spike had gotten a few drinks in them before broaching the subject of them singing for him. He had a good feeling about these two kids, and only needed them to test their pipes so he could fill in the blanks. He laughed at something clever Gunn said, and looked around the table at the others sharing the joke—Wesley, Fred, Buffy and Spike. Angel was nowhere to be found, poor guy. Lorne hoped he wasn't alone drowning his sorrows in some other dive somewhere. He'd be sure to check up on him later.

"Hey, kiddies, karaoke's about to start. Anyone game?"

There was a general shaking of heads and a few "no ways!"

"Come on, ya party poopers. Buffy, sweetheart, you and Spike need to sing for me. It'll be fun, I promise."

"You obviously haven't heard me sing," Buffy protested.

"I have," said Spike, mock fear in his tone. Fred laughed when Buffy punched his arm.

"You really should sing for Lorne, you two. He'll tell your fortune, kind of."

"Huh? How's that?" asked Spike.

"I read people's singing voices," supplied Lorne. "A gift I have, I guess. I can tell when people are lying, I can get a feel for how their future will be."

Spike made a scoffing noise, downing another shot of whiskey, then lighting a cigarette despite all the _no smoking_ signs all over the place. He used his empty glass as an ash tray.

Buffy, having seen more than her fair share of weirdness, tended to believe him. "Can you really?" At Lorne's sincere nod, she looked at Spike, at the sexy way he took a drag off his smoke. "Come on, Spike, it might be fun."

He glanced meaningfully at the three empty daiquiri glasses in front of her, blowing the smoke to the side. "You've obviously had too much to drink, luv."

"What could it hurt?" she begged.

"My ears, for one," mumbled Spike. Wesley and Gunn laughed.

"Lorne's done it for all of us," Wesley was saying. "He's always right."

_But I don't always tell you everything I see, _thought Loren sadly, looking at his friends whose futures were a little on the cloudy side these days. He covered his fears with a quick smile.

"You two kids will make great subjects," Lorne encouraged. "Lots of potential here, I can already feel it." He watched with much humor as all Buffy had to do was bat her big green peepers at Spike, and he was putty.

"Okay, but I get to pick what you sing," Spike said, a hint of the devil in his voice.

"Only if I can pick _your_ song,"she agreed. They shook on it. Then kissed on it. Lorne led them up to the stage, whispering to the DJ who was setting up the karaoke mic. The man smiled, obviously used to Lorne's flamboyant appearance. Buffy had sensed vamps and demons throughout the bar, but since no one seemed to be causing any trouble, she'd let them be.

Spike lost at rock, paper scissors, so he would sing first, and he looked a little nervous as Buffy told the DJ what to play. But when the guitar riff that began Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell," blasted the speakers, Spike grinned, reaching up to spike up his platinum hair. The crowd, noting his uncanny resemblance to the song's originator, went wild, women catcalling when they saw the body beneath the long coat he tossed to Buffy. He grabbed the mic, not even having to look at the lyrics, and opened his mouth to sing.

Buffy went back to their table to watch, the others patting her back for her excellent choice. Spike was a natural entertainer, pouring on the sex appeal, playing to his audience, singing the song like he was born to it. Everyone sang along. Buffy knew the song well, but when he got to the middle of it, Spike looked straight at her, and the familiar lyrics seemed to have a new meaning for them both:

_I walked the world for you, babe_

_A thousand miles, for you_

_I dried your tears of pain, babe_

_A million times for you_

_I'd sell my soul, for you, babe_

_For money to burn, for you_

_I'd give you all and have none, babe_

_Justa have you here by me_

_Because_

_In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more…_

As the song came to its rousing conclusion, Spike bowed and laughed at the acclaim, his face flushed with excitement and a little embarrassment. He went to tell the DJ Buffy's song and ask to take over her introduction.

"This next performer is the love of my life. A woman of many talents, but unfortunately, singing is not one of them." The crowd laughed and a few women heckled that statement, but Spike just grinned and continued his introduction.

"Buffy—yes, that's really her name—is a great woman. But we all know, behind every great woman, well, you fill in the blanks. That's why I've chosen this song for her to sing. It has a very special meaning for both of us. So give it up for the beautiful…Buffy Summers!"

By this time Buffy, a little tipsy, had stumbled up to the stage and grabbed the mic from Spike, giving him a dirty look before turning to face her public. When the words came up on the monitor, she gasped in surprise, then she was laughing so hard that she almost missed her cue and had to sing quickly to catch up.

_It must have been cold there in my shadow_

_To never have sunlight on your face_

_You were content to let me shine, that's your way_

_You always walked a step behind_

_So I was the one with all the glory_

_And you were the one with all the strength_

_A beautiful face without a name_

_A beautiful smile to hide the pain_

_Did you ever know that you're my hero?_

_And everything I would like to be?_

_And I could fly higher than an eagle_

_Cause you are the wind beneath my wings…_

Buffy caught sight of Spike and the others at their table, laughing uproariously at how seriously corny both the song and her singing were. But she plowed on, finishing with a slightly off-key flourish. She somehow made her way back to Spike amid boos and much laughter, only to be taken in his arms, kissed senseless before the entire company. To this, the audience applauded wholeheartedly.

When the laughter and ribbing died down, the couple turned to Lorne, who was wiping the tears from his eyes with a bar napkin.

"Oh my goodness, I haven't laughed like that in months. You two should quit the slayer business and take this show on the road."

"No thanks, mate. Ma singin' days are over."

"Well, mine aren't—"Buffy began.

"Hers too," Spike interrupted. That remark cost him a punch in the other arm.

Lorne smiled at their repartee. He looked at them, so obviously in love. It was such a relief that they read clean. And happy.

"So what didya see, Mr. Greenjeans? Don't keep us in suspense," Spike said. The others leaned in, trying to hear above the ABBA number emanating from the current singer.

"Well it didn't take a reading to know you love each other. But what I saw from both of you is staying power. Things won't always be calm and easy, but you're gonna make it. And you'll be great parents too, someday."

"Parents?" Buffy and Spike said in unison. Their new friends smiled or chuckled at their deer-in-the-headlights expressions.

"But I thought it wasn't possible for me—" Spike began.

"Maybe not when you were a vampire," Fred chimed in, "But you are human now, apparently. I could run some more tests…"

Buffy and Spike looked at each other sheepishly, both thinking of the loads of unprotected sex they'd been having recently.

"Bollocks," Spike muttered.

"You can say that again," grimaced Buffy.

"Bollocks."

"Gosh, kids," said Lorne. "Didn't mean to rain on your parade. And I didn't say it was happening anytime soon…"

"Really?" said Buffy hopefully. She looked at Spike's crestfallen face. "Not to say that I don't want your babies, Spike, but just not right now." She felt her face turn bright red, glancing up to see all amused eyes on them. "Let's talk about this later," she whispered.

"Yeah, pet." He turned to Lorne. "Anything else, Master Yoda?"

"Nothing else big stands out. 'Always in motion is the future,'" quoted Lorne. He reached out and put a hand on each of theirs. "I think you two have your happily-ever-after coming. Embrace it; you've earned it. Go enjoy the Italian countryside. Soak up some rays. Drink some vino. Kick some demon ass. It's all good."

"Thanks, Lorne," Buffy said softly, tears coming to her eyes at his encouraging words. It was so overwhelming to think she just might get all she ever wanted. All these years of being the Slayer, of the constant peril and the many loved ones lost, it was hard to imagine her life could be so…good. She knew it would never be "normal," but if she had Spike, if she had her friends and family, well, they could make their own normal.

Spike glanced up at the neon clock on the wall. "We gotta go, luv," he said. They had to make it across the city to the airport, then go through security and customs, their deadline to be out of the city fast approaching. They said their goodbyes and thank-you's, hugging and kissing cheeks, vowing to all meet up for a Roman holiday sometime soon.

Spike took Buffy's hand and threw her duffle bag over his other shoulder as they made their way through the boisterous crowd. From the corner of his eye, Spike caught sight, then scent of a familiar, tall man in a long coat. He stood alone in a darkened corner at the back of the bar. Angel. For once, Spike didn't have the heart to gloat, given all the good luck he'd finally come into. Their eyes met, and they nodded briefly to each other. Then, Angel slipped silently out the back door. Buffy squeezed Spike's hand and reached up to kiss his lips softly.

"Let's go, Superman,"she said with a smile.

The End

**Disclaimer: "Rebel Yell" is owned by Boneidol Music, by William Broad; "Wind Beneath My Wings" is by Larry Henley and Jeff Silbar. No infringement was intended.**


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